


Wolves Go For Your Heart

by Teddy1008



Series: Wolves, Come Take My Heart [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Discipline, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Eventual Relationships, Facials, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Punishment, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, Sub Peter Parker, Subdrop, Subspace, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy1008/pseuds/Teddy1008
Summary: Tony Stark, a senior partner at the most prestigious Doms-Only law firm in Manhattan, hires Peter Parker as his new associate.There are two problems with that. First, Peter is a sub and doesn’t technically have a law degree. Second, Tony only knows one of those things. So, when he finds out, he offers a deal that Peter just can’t refuse—and that is exactly how Peter ends up with Tony as both his boss and his Dom. He always did have a penchant for attracting trouble.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Wolves, Come Take My Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158287
Comments: 216
Kudos: 500





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! so, this story was originally posted with bucky/steve as the pairing. however, i decided to repost it with tony/peter. i'm going to try and update this fic once a week, so keep an eye out for that. 
> 
> a note that this fic was inspired by the tv show "Suits." there are several ideas and lines taken from the show. please also note that while i am interested in law, i most definitely am not an expert! you'll probably find meagre law content here, but i'll do my best. :) 
> 
> this story will also contain some recreational drug use (specifically marijuana) - just a warning for any who consider it a trigger.
> 
> lastly, a special shoutout to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for being an amazing beta. you've helped out so much, from the summary all the way to editing the chapters at supersonic speed! this story definitely would not have turned out as awesome if it weren't for you, bb!! <3

Peter Parker was a grown ass man. 

He would have been a  _ better _ grown ass man if he’d actually managed to stay in college, but he’d learned that Harvard had a no cheating policy the hard way. So, even though he was a grown ass man, he wasn’t really anyone special, especially not in New York goddamn City. Well, he supposed if there was one thing that he was better at than the billionaires that infested this city, it was the fact that he could remember things extraordinarily well. And by  _ things,  _ he meant  _ everything. _

He remembered the day his parents died, the way his grandmother tried to cheer him up, the way he’d pouted over the fact that he was forced to stay with her while his parents were going on a date, the way he hadn’t hugged his dad back before his parents had left—unbeknownst to them all, for forever. He remembered the lawyer, that shitty little bastard, who’d spoken with his grandmother after his parents’ deaths. Yeah, Peter Parker remembered  _ everything.  _ He always had.

Unfortunately, his eidetic memory meant that Peter could also recall Orientation Day crystal clear, and that was a day he rather wished he could forget. 

As the law dictated, he and Sam had been sixteen when they went to the Orientation Office to determine whether they were a Dom, sub, or switch. Peter, of course, still remembered the first words he’d read in the letter that had come in the mail. 

_ Peter Benjamin Parker. Orientation: Level 10 submissive. _

And that had been the moment his life had gone more downhill than it ever had before, because the fact that he’d grown up less fortunate than the other kids at school despite his grandmother’s best efforts to raise him (shoutout to her for that; he really appreciated it) was clearly not the end of it. Now he had to deal with…  _ this.  _

Peter was miserable, there was no question about that. Everyone learned in elementary school that the amount of submission or dominance one could exert was based on a scale system. Anyone who fell under Levels 1 to 5 was a Dom, 1 being extremely dominant and 5 on the verge of being a switch. Those who were classified under Levels 7 to 12 were submissive, and Level 6’s were switches. As a Level 10 submissive, biology confirmed that Peter was extremely submissive, whether he liked it or not. 

He recalled how his grandmother had tried to reassure him that it was perfectly alright to be a sub, but it _crushed_ him knowing that Sam, as a switch, had so many more opportunities in life than Peter. Thankfully, Sam hadn’t rubbed it in his face or anything. In fact, the topic of their orientations was rarely spoken of between the two of them, and Peter was perfectly content to keep it that way.

Peter was currently lying down on the couch, his phone in his hands. Every day was the same; he accomplished nothing, and there was never anything new in his life. It made him want to rip his hair out. 

“Hey, princess.”

Peter sighed and looked up from his phone. Sam snatched it out of his hands, and Peter scrambled to his feet with a scowl. “Sam, give it back.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Aw, why’s that, Petey? Do you have something to hide?” he teased. “Don’t tell me that hot chick from last week dumped you already.”

Peter let out a huff, simultaneously exasperated yet entirely fond of his best friend’s behaviour. “Actually,  _ I _ dumped  _ her, _ not the other way around.”

Sam gave a mock gasp. “What? I can’t believe you did that; she was an absolute sweetheart! I live with an asshole, it’s official.” He grinned mischievously. “Maybe I should shoot her a text, say that Peter’s best friend wants to take her out now that she’s no longer banging him.”

“You fucker!” Peter let out a laugh as he tried to get his phone back. “Sam, I swear to God, don’t do it! Or I’ll bring home some random Dom and make them put you in your place!” he childishly threatened. He was only half-joking. Because, well, if Sam actually did contact that girl, he was going to slowly but painfully slaughter him, best friend or not.

“Aww, you don’t want to hurt her feelings?” Sam teased. “Alright, alright. Maybe I was wrong about you being an asshole. And  _ excuse _ me, I can put myself in my own place. You, on the other hand—” Sam suddenly broke off, the presence of his unfinished words lingering in the suddenly tense atmosphere between them. 

Peter averted his eyes, perfectly aware of what Sam had been about to say. The thing was, Sam didn’t necessarily need a Dom; he could manage just fine with a sub. He was a switch, and either orientation would satisfy his needs and provide him with the necessities of life. It was purely his decision, based on his preferences. Peter, on the other hand,  _ needed _ a Dom to provide him with just the right amount of dominance and structure that he required, whether he liked it or not. 

Peter’s phone suddenly rang, cutting the taut silence between them. They both looked down at the phone’s bright screen, and Peter froze when he saw the Caller ID.

Sam had a similar reaction, mutely staring at the phone screen for a few seconds before looking up at Peter, clearly thinking  _ oh-no-you-didn’t  _ before he moved on to  _ well-fuck-you-actually-did. _ “Peter,” he began, but Peter just shook his head.

“Give me the phone, Sam,” he muttered and snatched it back. Without wasting a second, he picked up and said, “Hello?”

A woman spoke in a pleasant tone from the other side of the phone. Peter heard a few papers being rustled in the background. “Hello, Mr. Parker, this is Sans & Voke calling to inform you that we would like to meet with you for an interview. Are you available tomorrow at 3 o’clock?”

Peter knew that Sam had heard her words and couldn’t help but wince. Great. Now he would have to deal with Sam too. Still, without hesitating, Peter responded, “Yes, I am available at that time tomorrow.”

“Lovely! We look forward to meeting with you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter heard the telltale beep of a call ending and sighed, pulling it away from his ear. The moment he tucked his phone into his pocket, Sam demanded, “What the hell was that?”

Peter plopped back down on the couch, running a hand through his hair. Wow, he really should get a haircut; he hadn’t realized how long his hair had gotten. To be fair, though, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to look presentable. He kept running his fingers through it for a few more seconds, hoping Sam would drop the topic. When he didn’t (as Peter had expected), he finally replied nonchalantly, “It was a call from Sans & Voke about a job interview tomorrow.”

“Yeah, dickhead, I heard!” Sam sat down next to him, looking at Peter incredulously like he’d grown two heads out of his ass. “Allow me to rephrase.” Sam paused for dramatic effect. “What I want to know is why you applied for a job.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Uh, because I’m job hunting? You know that, Sam. I can’t just sit around and smoke all the time.”

A disgruntled noise, then— “No, but why did you apply _there?”_

“Are you asking why I applied there even though I don’t have a real law degree?” Emphasis on ‘real.’ He had a fake one hanging up on his wall just so he could stare at it and be reminded of his crippling incompetency to succeed at life. “Sam. I’m not going to be shit at this job, I promise. You  _ know  _ what I can do.” 

“Peter, I swear to God—”

Peter groaned.  _ Just drop it, Sam.  _ “Sans & Voke is a good law firm and you know it. I could make a lot of money.” Was he still avoiding the real question on hand? Yeah. Whoops. “And a lot of people go there because of their reputation.”

“Right. And you wanting to get a job there has nothing to do with the fact that they hire only Doms?” Sam questioned dryly. 

Peter tossed his hands in the air exasperatedly, getting to his feet with a scowl. “It has everything to do with that and you know it. People trust Sans & Voke  _ because _ they only hire Doms, because that means more efficient work for the clients.  _ And  _ because Doms are just sexist douchebags,” he muttered. He  _ hated _ the fact that employers were required to give subs at least one day off per week; it made submissives in the workplace undesirable, which was why there was such a huge unemployment crisis for subs,  _ especially _ for the ones at the top of the scale like Peter. 

“Peter, you can’t just pretend to be a Dom. It doesn’t work that way.”

Peter gritted his teeth. “I  _ know, _ Sam. You think I haven’t thought of that? But I don’t have a choice; if I want a good enough income to support Grammy, this is the only way and it’s final. You can’t and won’t do anything to change my mind.” Peter grabbed a half-finished beer bottle, took an aggressive sip, and set it back down on the table hard enough for it to perilously wobble. As he headed towards his bedroom, he added, “And heads up, I’m gonna borrow one of your suits tomorrow.”

“Peter—” Sam let out a huff. “Alright, fine, whatever. You know, for a sub, you sure act like a Dom. Maybe you should’ve been an actor, huh?”

“Shut up, Sam,” Peter called over his shoulder, then shut the door. He sighed, closed his eyes for a few moments before hastily getting ready for bed.

He had an interview tomorrow and he was going to goddamn ace it and get the job if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Tony Stark was a grown ass man.

He was also a grown ass man with relationship problems. 

Really, he’d assumed he and Pepper would be fine, that their feelings for each other would counteract the power struggle they’d inevitably undergo as two Doms in a relationship, but now that he thought about it, he wasn’t really sure what he’d been thinking at the time. Their last heated argument had been the last straw for them both. The divorce papers were signed the next day. So now Tony was single, but that was fine. He was fine. It’d been a weird mind fuck to see Pepper-the-big-boss at work and then go home and see Pepper-the-wife.

Tony felt an oncoming headache. Oh, how he hated thinking. He rubbed his forehead with a hand, grimacing. God, he needed coffee. “Nat?” he called, eyes not straying from the laptop screen in front of him. 

His red-headed secretary strode in at his call not five seconds later, heels clicking on the floor and piercing the quiet buzz of the firm. He could tell something was off just by the way she carried herself and he scowled.

“Please tell me Davis hasn’t called  _ again  _ about that merger.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha wince, and shit, he knew what that meant. “Seriously? You’ve gotta be joking.” He stood, facing Natasha properly now. “I thought I made it clear last time that I don’t want to see his face—”

“Tony,” Natasha tried to interrupt. 

“No, don’t try to tell me otherwise, Natasha. I’m done with his whining and if he—”

“Tony!” Natasha cut in, eyes flashing, and Tony broke off. 

“Jesus. What?”

“Pepper would like me to inform you that you need to find an associate. Pronto.”

Tony stared. “Pronto?”

Natasha stared. “Tony. Pronto means like, now.” 

“An… associate?”

_ “Yes, _ Tony, an associate.” Natasha sounded slightly exasperated now. “I know you’re not fond of the idea, but Pepper’s really putting her foot down this time.”

“Well, tell her that I can’t—”

“Already did.”

“Okay. I’m busy with Da—”

“She doesn’t believe it. She knows when you lie.”

“But you were lying for me. I didn’t lie directly to her.”

“She knows when I lie too. But only when it’s about you. Now  _ that’s  _ weird.”

“Do I not have a choice in this?” Tony scowled. What was Pepper up to? She  _ knew  _ he was still reeling from their divorce, because despite their differences and the constant my-dick-is-bigger-than-yours argument, he really had felt affection towards her, and that said a lot. What made her think he was down to pick up some sweaty, nervous kid who’d fuck up everything? “Nat.” He pouted.

“No, Tony, you don’t have a choice. I’ve already scheduled it for you.” Natasha turned on her heel and disappeared through the door of his office. 

Tony watched her leave. This was just… unbelievable. Pepper knew how much he hated commitment in the workplace, and he had a goddamn good reason for it. With commitment came the need to not only like, but also  _ care  _ about another person. And, well, Tony Stark didn’t  _ do  _ caring. It was one of the reasons Tony was able to do his job so well—he cared about winning and getting the job done, but he most definitely did  _ not  _ care about the client. Getting an associate would ruin everything. He’d cared for Pepper at the office, and shit, look how well that turned out. 

So, he stood up, fixed his cuffs, buttoned his suit, schooled his expression into his best  _ I’m Tony Stark  _ face, and marched down to Pepper’s office.

* * *

Peter grimaced as he stuffed more tissues into the shoulders of his suit; he despised how he felt so much  _ smaller  _ than everyone else. He sighed and peered at himself in the mirror. The tissues weren’t the best solution, but he didn’t have any other choice. It wasn’t  _ too _ obvious (hopefully), and besides, once he got this job, he would go hunting for better suits (hopefully).

He also dug out an old bottle of hair gel in an effort to tame his hair. It was now styled into a neat quiff, and he had to say, he pulled it off so well that it almost made up for the rest of his appearance. Almost.

Peter glanced at the watch around his wrist—Sam’s, of course—and grimaced. Shit, he was going to have to bike down to Sans & Voke faster than the speed of light, or else he wouldn’t make it on time. 

Peter jammed his phone into his pocket, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and locked the door behind him. Then, he quickly fiddled with the bike lock before jumping on and pedaling down the street.

Peter made it just on time. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at his watch. 2:56 PM. He didn’t bother locking his bike and ran into the building. His shoes skidded against the marbled floor of the building, causing people to look strangely at him, but he ignored them. He took about five seconds to observe his surroundings. The walls were white, the benches and desks were made of mahogany wood, and an empty carton of what seemed to be leftover Chinese food was abandoned on one of the benches. 

Peter turned his attention back to the front desk. He straightened his tie and prayed to god that he didn’t look like a complete idiot, then headed for the woman sitting at the desk. 

She didn’t look up as he approached; not that Peter had expected her to. Front desk receptionists were never that friendly anyway. Peter cleared his throat and said in the most confident tone he could manage, “Hi, I’m Peter Parker, I’m here for—”

“Elevator to the third floor, and then the office on your right,” she interrupted, not even sparing him a glance. 

“Er… right.” Peter awkwardly backed off and walked to the elevators, cringing at how his submissive instincts were silently screaming at him to _be_ _more polite, idiot, she’s a Dom and you have to show respect—_

Peter jumped, jerked out of his thoughts when the elevator doors opened with a cheerful  _ ding!  _ People stepped out, and Peter shuffled aside for them politely to atone for his earlier behaviour with the receptionist. He couldn’t help but slightly wilt when he wasn’t even spared a glance before he realized how he was acting. God, what the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t even been to his interview yet, and he was messing up. It was the dominance that reeked in this place; his submissiveness was kicking in, and he knew it. 

“Are you coming in?”

Peter blinked and found a tall woman staring at him in confusion. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” Peter darted into the elevator and hurriedly pressed the button that would take him to the third floor. The silence made the ride awkward, and Peter couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out on his floor.

Remembering what the receptionist had told him, he turned right and headed for the first office he saw. He exhaled heavily as he approached, cleared his throat, and gave himself a pathetic little pep talk in his pathetic little mind. Then, he knocked on the door, hard, knuckles rapping sharply against the glass. Ow. 

Someone called him inside. 

The first thing Peter noticed when he closed the door behind him was the row of succulents on a hanging shelf. After a quick examination of his surroundings, Peter turned his attention to the woman in front of him. 

She was dressed immaculately from head to toe. Her wavy strawberry-blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail. She wore an ivory blouse, had smokey makeup on that reminded him of Ursula from  _ The Little Mermaid, _ and her posture practically screamed ‘Dom.’

Peter gave her a tight-lipped smile, a particularly strong wave of nervousness washing over him when he realized that he was face-to-face with a Dom while pretending to be one himself. God, what the hell was he doing?  _ Getting myself a fucking job,  _ he reminded himself. After taking a deep breath to calm himself, Peter stretched out an arm and said, “Hi. Peter Parker.”

“Linda Allen,” she responded with a professional smile in return, shaking his hand. “Please, take a seat, Mr. Parker.”

Peter sat in the chair across from her and clasped his hands in his lap, trying not to come off as overly eager to show signs of dominance. He didn’t want to overdo his performance. Peter grimaced. This really was just a performance, as much as he hated to admit it. He suddenly wondered what would happen if she discovered his real orientation. Would she report him? Or would she force-feed one of Ursula’s potions down his throat? He tried not to smile at the amusing yet mildly disturbing idea. 

The interview started off on a light note, Peter easily responding to the questions that were thrown his way. Linda didn’t appear to be as overbearing as he’d expected her to be based on his first impression of her. Maybe he had just overestimated how high on the scale she was; perhaps she was only a Level 4 or so. Peter found it easy to carry a conversation with her and he was rather proud of how well he did.

It wasn’t until about twenty minutes into the interview that the bomb was finally dropped—a question that made him inhale sharply.

“Do you understand why we only hire Doms, Mr. Parker?” 

“I do,” Peter responded, mouth suddenly going dry and his cheeks inevitably flushing in a slight panic. His heart began to race nervously, because shit, where was this heading? Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to elaborate. “It’s because it’s a popular belief that Doms are better suited to handle high-stress occupations like this one.” 

The woman in front of him smiled and Peter inwardly shuddered in apprehension. “It’s not a belief,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “It’s a fact.” 

Peter just raised an eyebrow, surprised by her bluntness. He knew the majority of Doms felt this way, but… was this considered professional? “A fact,” he deadpanned. 

“Yes, a fact. Submissives are prone to becoming upset in situations in which Doms wouldn’t. The way a submissive’s mind functions is highly different. They’re fragile and sensitive, which I’m sure you’re aware of.” 

“I am.” Peter couldn’t help the way he responded in a clipped tone, all the muscles in his body tense and nervous, ready to react defensively. 

“Well, then, I’m sure you understand our policy, Mr. Parker. Most people do. After all, we can’t have any employees breaking down from stress when they should be working. As harsh as this sounds, a submissive’s mind is almost too  _ weak _ for this area of work. Don’t you agree?”

Before he knew what he was saying, he snapped, “No, I don’t.” A steady pounding was building up in his ears. 

“Excuse me?” She seemed taken aback, confused and bewildered by his seemingly sudden anger. 

“I don’t believe that a submissive’s mind is too weak for anything, ma’am. In fact, I think in certain situations, a submissive is  _ stronger _ than a Dominant. If that’s all we’re here to discuss, then I’ll be leaving now. I don’t believe I’m comfortable with this kind of workplace culture.” Peter stood up, shoving his clammy hands into his pockets. “Thank you for the interview.” 

It took every ounce of restraint in his body to not dash out like he wanted to. He ignored the looks people gave him, just focusing on pressing the elevator button repeatedly to make it arrive faster. The doors opened, and Peter stepped in hastily. 

When the elevator started moving, Peter closed his eyes. God, he felt like he was going to be sick. If he hadn’t left, Peter was sure that he would’ve thrown up on her mahogany desk. He should’ve known that she’d be one of those people who felt strongly on the whole ‘Doms are superior to subs’ matter.

He knew he would have to deal with comments like Linda’s when trying to find a job, especially considering he wasn’t even supposed to be applying for Dom-specific positions. But that didn’t change the fact that he still felt upset and disgusted. 

Only as Peter left the building did he realize he was jobless again. Yeah, he’d definitely blown any chance he’d had at this place, which was just lovely. Oh, and to top it off, he’d called her  _ ma’am.  _ Who the hell did that? Definitely not a Dom. Maybe she’d even known that he was faking his act. Would she even have brought up that conversation if he wasn’t a sub? He would never know. 

Peter rubbed a hand across his face. If he couldn’t handle simple words spoken by a nobody, how would he be able to handle working in a strict Dom-only environment where submissives were looked down upon? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please leave comments and kudos; provide me with that crack! <3 
> 
> feel free to visit my [tumblr!](https://snowstark.tumblr.com) i love making new friends :)
> 
> **Next chapter: Tony and Peter meet!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Well, Natasha, as much as I appreciate you picking up a stray puppy in the middle of the street for me—” Tony swore that he saw Peter’s cheeks flush a pretty pink at his words, but he chose not to comment on that either— “how do I know skill got him here today and not just luck?”_
> 
> _Before Natasha could answer, Peter spoke up. “Because I didn’t just get lucky.”_
> 
> Tony and Peter meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa, it's been a year since we last met! :p hilarious, i know. happy new year, everyone. i hope 2021 brings good health and great things for all of you! <3 i hope you’re all as excited as i am for this fic. right now, i’ve written about 35k words and i’m on chapter 7, so you’re in for a fun ride! 
> 
> special thanks to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for being the best beta to ever exist :)

Tony was about two seconds away from slapping a bitch, and it definitely wasn’t in the sexy way.

He had to refrain from literally dragging someone out by their hair; instead he settled on giving them a tight-lipped smile and showing them out the door while trying not to appear eager to do so. When the door shut, Tony sighed and collapsed onto a nearby armchair, massaging his forehead in an attempt to chase away an impending headache. 

“Do you need a moment before the next one, Tony?” 

Natasha.

Tony looked up and saw the expression on her face. Her slightly furrowed brow gave away her otherwise composed appearance. Even with all the tough love they showed each other, they truly were the best of friends. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. He rubbed his eyes before saying, “No, I’ll be fine.” He stood and poured himself a glass of water. He swore every interview took away a year from his lifespan. 

“Tony, you do realize you’re going to have to go back to Pepper with at least one associate, right?” Natasha sounded almost apologetic. The way she wouldn’t meet his eyes showed just how bad she felt for him. 

Tony set the now empty glass back down onto the table. “Send the next one in, Nat.” He wasn’t happy about it, but they didn’t have a choice. 

Natasha gave him a curt nod and briskly strode out, heels clicking crisply on the floor.

Tony sighed.

Pepper would be lucky if he even walked out of this place at the end of the day without being charged for assault.

* * *

Luck was really not on Peter’s side today, because not only had he fucked up his interview, his bike was nowhere to be seen. He knew he should’ve locked it. This was New York; what had he expected?

It would be about a thirty-minute walk back home without his bike and Peter was suddenly feeling completely unmotivated and exhausted. He wasn’t going to take a cab either; he had to save the pitiful wad of bills in his pocket for lunch. The sooner he started walking, the sooner he’d be home. So, with that in mind, he began to trudge miserably in the direction towards home.

No longer than five minutes later, he had a ham croissant and a coffee in his hand as he sat down on the bench, watching two girls giggle as they ran through a group of pigeons, which scattered with a squawk at the disturbance. 

He had taken the final bite of his croissant when he was stopped in his tracks by an angry shout.

“...said I was sorry! Please!”

Peter turned and was met with the sight of a well-built man and a young woman in a heated argument. Normally, Peter would’ve brushed it off as a problem between the couple and left them alone, but when the man grabbed the struggling woman by her wrist, dragging her closer to him and snarling in her face, alarm bells went off in his head.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Peter strode forward. “Hey! Let go of her!” He was surprised when the man released her. He hadn’t really been expecting to be heard. She stumbled back and Peter scowled, marching up to the man, unflinching even when his instincts screamed in protest at his actions. “You have a problem with her, dickhead, you take it up civilly and treat her with respect.”

“This is none of your goddamn business,” the man snapped back. “I’ll deal with _my_ sub as I see fit.”

“Matt,” she tried to interrupt, but was quickly shut down.

“Lily, I told you to shut the _fuck_ up! Follow my goddamn orders, _now!”_

Before he could catch her, Lily’s legs buckled in response to the Dom’s tone, knees hitting the pavement with a thud, and Peter barely managed to stop himself from flinching at the angry dominance being emitted from the man in large waves.

Gritting his teeth, Peter glared up at the man. “If you don’t leave her alone, I’ll be filing a lawsuit on her behalf.”

Matt let out a bark of laughter. “On what grounds, pretty boy?”

“Harassment and assault,” Peter retorted, trying to square his shoulders. He wondered if the man even knew he was a sub; he had practically trained himself to act dominant in public with Sam ever since he was a little boy. And, well, even if he hadn’t done it in a while, habits were hard to break. “The Code of Criminal Dominance states that if one abuses their power to repeatedly carry out unconsented acts—physical or not—that serve no useful purpose besides the intent to alarm, annoy, intimidate, threaten, or put a submissive in fear of their safety, said Dominant may be tried, arrested, detained, and considered an abuser of power.”

“That doesn’t mean shit!” 

“Actually, it does. Especially if Lily here confirms my suspicions about your behaviour.” Peter looked down at Lily who was still on her knees. He winced. That had to hurt. 

Matt bent down to be eye-level with her, ignoring the way she flinched back. “Think wisely before answering, _darling,_ or there’ll be consequences.”

Peter shuddered at his silky tone. “That’s another count of harassment, not to mention emotional gaslighting,” he said as firmly as he could. “You can’t pressure or manipulate her to say or do anything without her consent. And from what I can see, it’s clear that she hasn’t given you an ounce of it.”

Matt straightened up, clearly gearing up for another fight, but Peter jumped in before he could open his mouth.

“Now, I’m going to tell you one more time. If you don’t leave her alone, I _will_ take legal action. And if I were you, I’d back down now instead of continuing to test me.” Peter shoved his hands into his pockets to hide his trembling hands.

Matt let out a low, deep growl of displeasure. Then, he spat, “This isn’t over yet.” He pointed a finger at Lily. “And I don’t want to see your face ever again.” He spun and stormed off.

Peter bent down immediately. “Are you alright?” he asked Lily frantically before he realized how stupid he sounded. Of _course_ she wasn’t okay; she was just abused in public and everyone had just been _watching,_ not doing a single thing.

Lily let out a sob.

Peter was taken aback for a second, mind going blank, before he jumped into action. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re safe now. And he’s not getting away with this.” He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t say anything in response, only crying silently.

Deciding to go a different direction, Peter asked gently, “Can you call someone you trust to come get you?” 

When Lily gave a small, timid nod in response to his question, Peter responded with an encouraging smile. “That’s good. Go ahead and call them. If you want, I can stay with you until they come.”

When Lily’s sister arrived, Lily burst into tears again, clinging to her sister as if she were her lifeline. Peter watched for a few moments before gently explaining what had happened. Then, making sure he spoke quietly enough to not get Lily worked up again, he murmured, “If I were you, I’d get the Submissives’ Rights Association involved.”

She gave him one grateful nod, and then he was left alone in the busy streets of New York, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

Peter stood there for a few moments, still buzzing with adrenaline from the incident, then shook his head to clear his thoughts. He raised his coffee to his lips, grimacing at how cold it was now. Gross. He tossed it in the trash. Peter didn’t get more than two steps forward when a voice stopped him.

“Impressive show back there.”

Peter stopped, then turned around to face a red-haired woman. There was a small smile on her lips. Uh, okay. Whatever the hell that meant. “Thanks?”

She reached out a hand, the smile still lingering on her lips. “Natasha Romanoff.” 

Peter shook her hand firmly. “Peter Parker.”

Silence.

Peter pulled his hand back, clearing his throat uncomfortably to fill the awkward silence between them. He struggled with himself for a few moments, trying to figure out what to do. Thankfully, before he said something inevitably stupid, Natasha spoke up.

“Tell you what, Peter. I like what I just saw there. It was impressive, well-executed, and you didn’t get flustered for a single second.”

Peter opened his mouth to say that it was just pure luck, that Matt didn’t seem too familiar with the laws which had given him an advantage, but she didn’t give him the chance. 

“We’re looking for a new associate at the firm. Well. Not me. I’m the secretary; he’s a senior partner. I think he’d like you.” 

Peter scoffed, nearly telling her that she was wrong, but the look on her face stopped him. He hesitated, then said, “Why do you think that?”

Natasha grinned, shark-like. “You wanna know what he told me he was looking for in his soon-to-be associate?” When Peter didn’t say anything, she leaned even closer. “Another him.”

Huh.

“So, what do you say to you coming with me, meeting him, then saying ‘yes’ when he gives you the job?” Natasha suggested. “And before you try to politely decline and make your way back home, let me just tell you that you’d be working at Jarvis & Potts under Tony Stark—the best lawyer you’ll ever meet. There’s no job that’s better, don’t you agree?” She smiled sweetly.

Peter gaped, taken aback, because Jarvis & Potts? Jarvis & Potts was one of the biggest law firms in New York, notorious for only accepting students from Harvard as well as their _Dominant employees only_ policy. And that could only mean one thing—Natasha thought Peter was a Dom. 

Peter could work with that.

“Oh, come on, it can’t sound _that_ terrible,” Natasha teased.

Peter grinned, and for once, it was genuine. “Alright, I’m in.”

* * *

Tony hadn’t ever felt more grateful in his life than he did now sending the last candidate out the door with a polite, “We’ll let you know.” If he had a choice, he would’ve hauled them all out two hours ago, but then Pepper wouldn’t be too pleased with him.

Which reminded him, there was another woman who wasn’t too happy with him either.

“Tony, you can’t go empty-handed back to the firm,” Natasha was reminding him for the fifth time. “Pepper will skin you alive, and quite frankly, I’d let her. But then I’d lose my job because you’d inevitably fire me for letting you get exactly what you deserve, so instead, you’re going to go through all of the resumes again, and by the time I come back, you’re going to have chosen at least one person to be your associate.”

“And where are you going?” Tony stared at her incredulously as she pulled her coat on.

“I’m going to get a coffee. Your obstinate behaviour is giving me a headache. So, be a good boy and do as I say.” She smirked at him teasingly.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Not that you have any actual power over me.”

“With how stubborn and immature you act, people would think you’re a Level 12 sub!” Natasha tossed over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

Tony snorted. “Excuse me, I’m one of the best Level 1 Doms to exist and you know it. And don’t go around slandering the good name of Level 12 submissives; they’re precious and someone will give you a good slap around the head sooner or later for saying something like that.”

Natasha smirked and pointed at the stack of papers on the desk. “Work.” Then, she left.

Tony sighed, glowering at the pile of resumes as though they’d personally offended him. Maybe he could strike a deal with Pepper. It had to be worth a try. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number. She picked up on the second ring.

_“Tony, I have a meeting with Abigail Parsons in five minutes, and you know how she gets when she has to wait.”_

“Show some mercyyy, Pepper.” Tony couldn’t (and didn’t) keep the whine out of his voice.

_“I take it that the interviews are going well?”_

He could hear the smile in her tone, damn her. “Yes, it’s going splendidly,” he said sarcastically.

 _“If that’s all you wanted to say, then goodbye, Tony.”_ She was definitely smiling now. _“Make your decision wisely; I don’t want any claims saying that Tony Stark neglected his associate. You’ll be joined at the hip with whoever your future associate is.”_

Tony groaned, and she hung up on him. 

Goddammit.

He got to work with the resumes, tossing the ones that were _absolutely_ _horrendous_ into the trash and moving others into a _maybe, since I have no other choice_ pile. He was about halfway done when he grabbed his phone, tempted to call Natasha to ask her to get him a coffee as well. But no, he knew that she’d just tell him to get back to work. Tony huffed; why were women like this?

Fast-forward half an hour later, Natasha walked into the room, a cup of coffee in her hand. Tony dropped the papers and held up his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “I swear, Natasha, I tried looking, but I couldn’t find—”

“Throw them in the trash, you don’t need them.”

Tony blinked. “What? Natasha, half an hour ago you were about to ram a water bottle up my ass—without lube, mind you—for not choosing an associate!”

Natasha gave him a dazzling grin. “I know, Tony. But I found someone better than any of those Harvard douchebags that came in today.” 

It was only then that Tony noticed the person standing next to Natasha. He had a slim fit from what Tony could see, judging by the way his far too large suit hung over his frame. His hair was neat, cheeks a little flushed, and his eyes were taking in his surroundings and undeniably judging Tony, just as Tony was doing to him. They reminded him of a puppy’s, round and curious and just a little needy. Was that weird to think? 

Tony cleared his throat, straightened his already-straight tie just for the sake of it, and said, “Well, I’m glad you agree that all of those candidates were abysmal. Let that serve as a reminder that what I say goes.” He smirked.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an ass,” she told him. Then, she turned to her companion. “This is Peter. He put on a pretty impressive show today if you ask me—slapped a not so nice Dom in the face with legal jargon and a threat of a lawsuit against him.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He spared a glance at Peter before letting his eyes flit back to Natasha. She held his gaze, lips twitching into a small, barely noticeable smile when Tony gave her a look that meant, _what the hell are you doing?_

“Trust me,” Natasha mouthed, and Tony barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He turned his attention to Peter and stuck out a hand. 

“Tony Stark.”

Peter took his hand and shook it, his grip firm. “Peter Parker.”

Tony held eye contact with Peter for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes at what he saw. Peter was such an open book, it was almost adorable. Almost. 

Tony wasn’t necessarily _impressed_ with what he saw, but he wasn’t disappointed either. Peter clearly wasn’t a complete slob, although Tony wanted to strip him of that oversized, repugnant suit and take him straight to his longtime designated tailor, Hank, for one that would actually fit him. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable in a suit, judging by the way he kept tugging at the sleeves, wrinkling the—oh, _God,_ was that polyester?—fabric. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if he was more the type to wear nerdy t-shirts with science jokes on a regular day. Nevertheless, he mercifully chose not to comment on his appearance and instead turned to Natasha.

“Well, Natasha, as much as I appreciate you picking up a stray _puppy_ in the middle of the street for me—” Tony swore that he saw Peter’s cheeks flush a pretty pink at his words, but he chose not to comment on that either— “how do I know skill got him here today and not just luck?”

Before Natasha could answer, Peter spoke up. “Because I didn’t just get lucky.”

Tony gave him a look, enjoying the way the kid swallowed at that. So, he had a bit of an ego, too. “Proof? If you’re as good as you say, you should know that you always need evidence.”

Peter blushed—he got flustered a lot, Tony noted, or maybe it was just in front of Tony that he did, and _that_ was an interesting thought—and shoved his hands into his pockets. He gave Tony a look that he supposed was an attempt to be belligerent, and Tony sniffed a smile, unable to help but feel amused. On Peter’s face, it looked like an endearing pout. “Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and Peter scowled. Tony suppressed his smile. A little push here, a bit of shove there, and he got his answers. Nice.

“Um. Okay. What if I told you that I can consume knowledge better than anyone else you’ve met?”

Tony didn’t bother hiding the smile this time. “I’d say you’re full of crap, with a sprinkle of arrogance.”

Peter pursed his lips, a look of determination flashing over his face. Then, he pointed behind Tony, towards his desk, and said, “That’s a barbri legal handbook there, right? Read me something, and I’ll give you the evidence you want.”

Tony shot Natasha a grin and commented, “The puppy’s gonna show us a trick,” because even though they’d only met a few minutes ago, he _knew_ how much that would fluster Peter, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him grin. He grabbed the book, shot Peter a look, opened it up to a random page and read, “Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors inc—”

“Including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable inference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff, and the nature of the damages themselves.”

Tony stared at Peter, and then looked at Natasha. She shrugged as if to say, _who knows?_ Tony tilted his head, returning his gaze back to Peter. It was one thing to paraphrase; it was another to repeat a random section of the barbri legal handbook verbatim. “How did you do that?” 

Peter shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I read a lot. When I read something, I understand it. And once I get it, it never leaves my mind.”

Tony sucked the inside of his cheek, then sat down on his desk. “So, you’re telling me, you never forget anything?”

“Not a thing.”

Tony slid back onto his feet. “Okay, hotshot. Which law school?”

“Um. Harvard.”

“Ah. And you’re currently employed somewhere else? Looking to make a little side cash with this, is it? That won’t work with my schedule.”

“No, I’m looking for a job right now.”

“You’re telling me you came out of Harvard, and you don’t have a job?” Tony found that hard to believe.

Peter shrugged and replied, “Personal issues,” but the way his lips slightly pressed together told Tony that there was more to the story. 

Tony shot Natasha a glance and received a tiny, imperceptible frown in return. So, Natasha didn’t know either. Now _that_ was a first. Tony let his eyes flit back to Peter and mused, “I’m going to need a bit more detail than that to be able to consider you as a candidate, kid.” Press where it hurts, and you get your answer. 

Peter frowned, but reluctantly admitted, “I only managed to come this far because I got a scholarship at Harvard. I, uh, I missed the time when everyone else was applying at law firms because I was busy finding my grandmother a good nursing home. And I never managed to get back to it until now.”

Okay. Tony mulled that over in his head. There were, obviously, a few (many) loopholes in Peter’s response; he’d be an idiot not to notice them. Which meant he was still hiding something. “You know, kid, lying to a potential employer is never the way to go,” he said lightly, though he made sure that some of his disapproval tinged his tone. He didn’t miss the way Peter’s eyes dropped for a second before flitting right back up.

“I’m not lying.”

Tony snorted. “Okay, pal. You’re out, then.”

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t do liars. Ever.” When Peter still didn’t move, he came closer until their chests were nearly touching. He held Peter’s gaze steadily. “You have one more chance to redeem yourself, and _maybe_ I’ll consider hearing the rest of it after that.” Peter was a smart kid, he knew that already. It was how he also knew Peter would come to make the right decision. 

“Alright, _fine._ I’m sorry.” Peter rubbed his forehead, looking a little meek now. “I really was accepted to Harvard at first, though. I didn’t lie about that. I got a great scholarship. I was there for a month before I got kicked out.”

“What’d you do?”

“I cheated. Well, I didn’t need to cheat, but a friend convinced me to sell the answers to a test.” Peter sounded bitter. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes. “I’ve always had shitty luck, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when I figured out that we accidentally sold the answers to the Dean’s daughter.” 

“So you thought the solution to your problem was faking a law degree?” Jesus, this kid had balls.

“I didn’t think it was a _solution.”_ Peter’s eyes flashed. “I just don’t have another option available, not when I need to up Grammy’s meds and move her to a better home. If I don’t come up with $25,000 by the end of this month, she’ll be moved to a state home. That’s _not_ going to happen.” 

“I see.” Tony’s head began to hurt again. Peter was certainly more appealing than any of the others he’d met with today, but… 

“Look, I’m just wasting your time.” Peter stepped back, looking resigned. “It’s obvious that I can’t get this job now that you know my sob story.” He turned and made to move away. 

“I didn’t give you permission to leave yet.” The words left Tony’s mouth before he could stop them. All he could think was _I’m keeping him._ The kid was smart and his genius brain would be an asset to the team. Tony was willing to bet his left testicle that Peter would be noticed by the other partners almost immediately, and if Peter’s reputation went up, then so would Tony’s. Win-win. “What do you want to achieve as an associate of Jarvis & Potts?” 

Peter stared at him incredulously. “I… hold on. You’re letting me…?”

Tony gave him a tight smile. “I’m waiting for an answer, Mr. Parker.”

Peter gaped at him for a few more seconds, floundering, before he cautiously spoke. “As generic as it sounds, I want to help people and make sure they don’t get shoved around by bullies. I mean, sure, it’d be great if I had more money on hand for my grandmother’s care. It would be amazing to not have to worry about next month’s rent. But I’m not in this just for the money, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Tony quietly let that sink in, holding eye contact with Peter until his eyes dropped to the ground again, and Tony found himself suddenly wondering what Peter’s orientation level was. Peter was definitely less dominant than Tony or Natasha. Maybe he was a Level 5. There was no way he was as dominant as he was pretending to be. Tony read people for a living, which meant he was _good_ at it. He probably should’ve asked, but by now, Peter was as appealing as a stack of gold after a day of interviewing sweaty Harvard graduates.

So, Tony gave a nod. “Fair enough.” He shifted and grabbed a pile of papers on his desk, slipping a paper clip on so that they wouldn’t fall apart. “You’re hired. You’re going to fill out this paperwork for me. It’s nothing laborious, just some basic personal information and guidelines for how things are in the firm. Make sure you read and sign every page. You know how it goes. You start on Monday. Be at the building by 7 AM.” He turned just in time to see Peter grin, looking star-struck.

“Yeah, okay.” He took the papers out of Tony’s hand. “I’ll be on time.”

“Of course you will,” Tony said dismissively. He turned back around, tossing the resumes into the trash. Ah, fuck, fine. He needed to ask, or Pepper would throw a fit. “Oh, and just for legal formalities and all—you’re a Dom, right? Jarvis & Potts tradition, Dom employees only.” He turned around, raising an eyebrow when Peter just stared at him.

Then, Peter seemed to break out of whatever trance he’d appeared to be lost in, and nodded, though he was starting to look a little pale. “Yeah, no, I get it.” He looked down at the papers in his hand and said, “I’ll bring this to the office on Monday.”

Tony gave him a nod and shook his hand one last time before showing Peter out the door. When it shut, Tony faced Natasha, who, of course, had a smug smirk on her face.

“Told you so. I’m always right.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, let me know what you thought! comments and kudos are welcome and greatly appreciated; they’ll keep me motivated! :)
> 
> visit my tumblr [here!](https://snowstark.tumblr.com)
> 
> **next chapter: peter's first day at work.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Peter had known what he was getting himself into when he accepted the job offer from Tony. He knew that the floor he’d be working on would be packed with Doms and only Doms. But he hadn’t expected to feel like a pack of hyenas were surrounding him; he felt small when all of the other associates in the bullpen stared at him._
> 
> Much to the other associates' dismay, Peter is Tony's golden boy from day one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! :) I hope you enjoy this chapter! I decided to update on Sundays instead of Mondays. Mondays tend to get a bit hectic anyways LOL
> 
> As always, thank you to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for being literally the best beta ever <3

Peter was receiving an unwanted lecture by none other than his irresponsible, drug-dealing best friend about getting a job at Jarvis & Potts. Peter sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sam, as much as I appreciate you looking out for me,” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“This isn’t just me looking after you, Peter! You could get into a crap load of trouble doing this, don’t you understand?” Sam seemed exasperated, as if  _ Peter  _ were the one being obstinate. “This is  _ illegal.” _

“Yeah, and so is drug-dealing. Which we did on a daily basis, which you  _ still  _ do sometimes.” Peter gave Sam a pointed look. “Look, Sam, it’s not even as bad as what you do—you could go to  _ prison  _ with what you’re doing.”

“And you wouldn’t? Peter—”

“No, just hear me out.” Peter threw his hands up in a placating manner and wisely chose to ignore the pissed expression on Sam’s face. “Even if I get caught, it’s no harm, no foul. Nothing’s gonna happen to me. Worst case scenario, it’ll be on my record, I’ll be forced to attend a few Submissives’ Rights Association counselling sessions, and end up with a stereotypical submissive’s job, like a bike messenger or something. This isn’t as dangerous as you’re making it seem, and you know it. Besides, I didn’t even go to Jarvis & Potts— _ they _ came to  _ me _ and offered me the job. I wasn’t going to say no.”

Sam held his gaze, then finally raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Alright. Fine, Peter. Your call. As long as you’re careful. Just… don’t get into trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, mom.” Peter clapped him on the shoulder, happy that this discussion was finally over. Or at least, he thought it was.

It wasn’t until they were both sitting on the creaky old couch, alternating between smoking a joint and scarfing down greasy pizza, that Sam attempted to bring up the topic again.

Peter didn’t even want to hear what Sam had to say. So, he cut him off before his friend could even begin. “Sam, no.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!” Sam protested.

Peter gave him a look. “I know you well enough to know that you still haven’t let this go, even though I made it clear what my decision is.”

“Just hear me out, dickhead.”

Peter rolled his eyes and wiped pizza grease from his hands onto a napkin, because even though he didn’t live in a fancy, sophisticated apartment, it didn’t mean that he had to live like a complete slob. Then, in a show of clear noncompliance, he grabbed his phone, turning it on to see if he had any messages. 

Sam was undeterred. “You’re going to find a Dom who makes you happy one day, Peter, and trust me, you’ll regret it if you take on a job that’s only meant for Doms.” He lit another joint in a more aggressive manner than necessary. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Peter said firmly, still not looking up from his phone. 

“Goddammit, Peter!” Sam threw a hand up into the air, holding the joint in his other hand. “There’s a reason subs don’t take on Doms’ jobs! It’s because they  _ can’t! _ And there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to find it easy, because in the end, you’re still a sub, even with your Albert Einstein mind.”

Peter clenched his jaw, looking up sharply at Sam’s words. He stood up, hearing a pounding beginning in his ears. “What did you just say to me?” He slapped the joint out of Sam’s hand, scowling. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about being a sub.”

“Actually, Peter, I do,” Sam snapped back. “I’m a  _ switch. _ And unlike you, I don’t try to  _ resist _ dominance; I  _ accept _ it.” 

“I don’t give a shit,” Peter muttered, spinning on his heel and heading towards his room. “And if you don’t stop telling me what I can and can’t do, you can stop talking to me altogether. I’m taking the job, and that’s final. If you don’t like that idea, then don’t bother hanging out with me here.” He slammed the door behind him. 

With a growl, Peter tossed his phone onto his chair, and then collapsed on his bed. He heard the unmistakable sound of Sam storming out, slamming the door shut. “Jerk,” he muttered, then buried his face in his pillow, gritting his teeth as he tried to calm down. He couldn’t help the hurt that swelled up inside him at Sam’s words. He  _ wasn’t  _ weak. He wasn’t. 

And yet, if he couldn’t get his best friend to understand his point of view, how was he ever going to work with Doms? It was hopeless. He did some deep breathing exercises his grandmother had taught him when he was younger. It didn’t help for a long time. 

When he felt considerably calmer, Peter finally let the tears that were stinging at his eyes escape, wetting his pillow as he cried from the stress and misery that washed over him. 

* * *

Peter liked to think that he didn’t have a problem with punctuality. 

Apparently, he did though, because he was running five minutes late for his new job.  _ Fuck,  _ he would be lucky if he didn’t get fired on his first day. Thankfully, no one commented on Peter’s tardiness. What someone  _ did  _ comment on was Peter’s disheveled appearance.

“Did a truck run you over on your way here?”

Peter turned around to see Tony as he stepped out of the elevator, smirking as he made a show of looking Peter up and down. Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to maintain a dominant posture like Tony when all he could think was,  _ ohfuckohshit.  _ He didn’t want to admit it, but Tony was  _ smoking hot,  _ especially in his expensive Tom Ford three-piece suit and flawless appearance. Not a hair was out of place.

“Well?” Tony prompted. Clearly, he wasn’t going to let this go. 

“No, it was a car,” Peter replied dryly. Before Tony could say anything, he added, “Thanks for your concern, but I didn’t actually get hit. Good thing too, because it totally would’ve fucked up my bike. I only just got a new one.” 

Tony gave him a look, pocketing the orange-tinted sunglasses he’d been wearing on top of his head. “You  _ biked  _ here?”

Peter frowned. “Is that a problem?” He’d been rather happy to get a new bike after his old one was stolen. 

Tony just rolled his eyes, looking torn between whether he should be amused or exasperated. Eventually, he turned and walked off, and Peter spluttered, “Tony! What am I supposed to do?” He ignored the glares that people were giving him. 

Tony turned around, fully grinning now, and suggested, “Take a seat and look pretty. I’m sure someone will come to help a stray puppy.” 

Peter just gaped, then numbly sat down in a chair, trying to ignore the little jump his heart did every time Tony called him that. He sat there for a bit, digging through his mental library to pick out something to read before finally setting for  _ The Hobbit. _ It was moments like this where having a photographic memory came in handy. When another ten minutes passed, he grew restless and couldn’t resist getting up and looking out the window. 

Peter’s session of admiring the breathtaking view was interrupted by Peggy Carter, a paralegal who was assertive and commanding from the moment she shoved a notepad and a pen at him. She took him around the firm for a short tour, rattling off information so quickly that he couldn’t even stop to tell her that her lipstick was smudged at the corner. 

By the end of the tour, she almost appeared to be  _ annoyed  _ at Peter—but for what? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Then, he looked down at the notepad in his hand. Or, more specifically, the  _ untouched  _ notepad. Right. She had told him to take notes, and now she probably assumed that he was an arrogant dick. Peter almost smiled at that thought. Almost. He wasn’t looking to get skinned alive. 

Peter was shown to his cubicle in what was supposedly referred to as the bullpen. Then, before he even had time to process all of this, Peggy was gone. He exhaled slowly and sat down in his chair, getting settled in. It was only 7:45 in the morning and people were already typing away at their computers, going through papers and writing notes on legal pads.

He wasn’t sure what exactly was expected of him, considering he’d assumed that Tony would tell him what to do and how to do it, but, well, it was clear that he wouldn’t be getting that. Judging by the unfriendly, cold expressions on the other associates’ faces, he wouldn’t be getting much help from them either. So, he figured he had to take matters into his own hand.

He cautiously picked up a folder that was on his desk and opened it. He quickly discovered that it was a case after reading a few lines at the top. He found instructions written on a yellow sticky note in the folder—a woman’s writing, judging by the penmanship. Maybe Natasha’s? He was to read the brief, find a precedent, and take down important notes in the margins before handing it in to Tony by eleven at the latest.

Well, that was more than enough time. Peter got straight to work, crumpling up the sticky note after taking a mental snapshot of the instructions. He tossed the folder aside and turned to his computer to set it up. Once he came up with a password, he was all set to go.

Peter scribbled down possible precedents before he finally found the one he was looking for. He made sure to read each and every detail, committing it to memory and filing it away in his mental cabinet before turning back to the folder. He flipped through the pages, jotting down notes that Tony would need to know about the case. He also discovered that a small sentence on page 6 and another on the 13th didn’t add up—as crazy as the world was today, there was no way that was possible. He highlighted it for good measure. 

When Peter finished with the brief, he looked at the clock. It was only nine. He was re-organizing the papers for what felt like the fifth time, just to kill time, when the phone on his desk went off. He jumped, not having expected it to ring, and hesitated as he reached for it. “Um, hello?”

“Peter. Are you done with the case I gave you?”

_ Tony. _

“Oh, yeah, I finished it about fifteen minutes ago—”

“Good, because I’m gonna need it on my desk right now, so get up here.” Then, he hung up.

Well, at least that problem was solved. Peter got up, picking up the blue folder, and he was about to tuck his chair in when someone called out, “Hey, newbie, it’s not lunch yet!”

Peter turned around. “Oh, um, Tony called and told me to bring this up to him, so…” He trailed off, suddenly feeling eyes on him.

Peter had known what he was getting himself into when he accepted the job offer from Tony. He knew that the floor he’d be working on would be packed with Doms and  _ only  _ Doms. But he hadn’t expected to feel like a pack of hyenas were surrounding him; he felt  _ small  _ when all of the other associates in the bullpen stared at him.

“Tony Stark called  _ you?” _ the same associate who had called him out questioned.

Peter bristled at the disbelieving tone and scoffs he heard from the others. “Yeah, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be heading to his office now.” He brushed past everyone, heading out of the bullpen, until he realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was going. 

Thankfully, the receptionist at the front desk was nice enough to direct him where to go, and Peter got to Tony’s office in one piece. He spotted red hair as he neared and knew it was Natasha. He paused in front of her desk and tried to explain why he was there, but she seemed to know because she just waved him in while typing away on her computer.

Peter headed inside the office, eyes widening as he took in the view. Yeah, Tony definitely had the best office in the entire building. Peter observed the basketballs lined up to Tony’s left and swore that he saw a signature on each and every one of them. There were shelves and shelves of records on the other side of Tony’s desk and a somewhat ridiculous but endearing painting of a duck hung on the wall. A half-finished glass of scotch was placed on the table next to the papers sprawled all over the glass surface. 

Peter finally directed his attention to the office’s owner and dropped the folder in front of Tony. “I’m convinced that all the associates hate me,” he announced dramatically. 

Tony ignored him, just grabbing the folder and flipping through the papers. He looked satisfied with Peter’s work, even giving him a “Good work,” before setting it aside. Peter internally reprimanded himself when his brain substituted it for, “Good boy.” Not helpful. 

God, he really was only here as a fraud, wasn’t he? Peter tried to push that thought out of his mind and instead focused on the fact that Tony appeared to be visibly calmer after Peter had handed the folder in. 

When Tony didn’t say anything more, Peter sat down in a chair, facing Tony, and asked, “What should I do now?”

Tony finally looked up at him, expression unreadable. When he spoke, it wasn’t an answer to Peter’s question. “All of the associates hate you already?”

“What do you mean ‘already?’” Peter said indignantly. “I didn’t do anything wrong; I just sat there and did my work and then you called me up.” He frowned, recalling what had happened. “But they wouldn’t believe me when I told them so. What’s up with that?”

Tony just rolled his eyes. “Jealousy.”

Peter scrunched up his face. “Jealousy?”

“Mm.” Tony frowned down at the papers on his desk, looking slightly frustrated once more. “They’re jealous that you get to work for me and they don’t.”

“O...kay,” Peter said slowly, trying to process what exactly that meant. But before he could get a chance to properly understand Tony’s words, Tony spoke up again.

“Okay, genius, take a look at this.” Tony shuffled some papers around and handed them to Peter. “There’s something wrong with this case.” Tony clasped his hands together, shooting Peter a smirk. “Let’s see how good that brain of yours is.”

Peter frowned, squinting down at the papers in his hands. He flipped through the pages, and he could see Tony appraising him out of his peripheral vision. Peter was nearing the few last pages when he finally, and thankfully, found it and said, “The numbers don’t add up.”

Tony frowned, twitching a little in his chair. He let himself rock forward, rather than remain in the lax position he’d been in before. “What? Of course they do; that’s not the problem I wanted you to find—”

“No, look here.” Peter scrambled to show Tony, pointing out the numbers he’d found. “This doesn’t add up with page 11. They thought it was hidden because the second last paragraph on page 5 covers it all—they tried to hide it.”

“Son of a bitch.”

And with that, Tony grabbed the papers from Peter and began furiously typing into his laptop.

“What do you need me to do?” Peter asked determinedly.

“I’m going to need you to run some background checks and find me all the dirt you can on this piece of shit, because chances are, if he’s done this now, he’s done it before.”

“On it.” Peter spun around, eager to prove to Tony that he was good enough for this. He was taken aback when he found himself face-to-face with a woman. Peter froze. 

She was dressed in a crimson dress that probably cost more than his life’s savings, and she stood tall and confident. But what was most intimidating about her was the dominance that  _ oozed  _ from her from head to toe.

Peter managed to hold her gaze for what was probably only two seconds before his eyes dropped, suddenly finding the floor extremely interesting. It took all of his willpower not to tuck his hands behind his back.

Fortunately, she ignored him and instead smiled at Tony. “Tony. I see your new associate is coming along nicely.” She glanced at Peter, who still stood frozen in place.

Peter hesitated, unsure if he was supposed to leave or not. Feeling helpless, he turned his gaze to Tony, almost pleadingly.

Tony, however, seemed to find it amusing how intimidated Peter was. Smirking, he ignored Peter’s silent call for help and said, “Pepper. I’d say Peter and I are doing just fine working on the trucking case.”

Peter’s mouth went dry when Pepper raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him. “I thought you planned to give him a pro bono case.”

“I did. He already finished it.” Tony handed the folder to her.

Pepper flipped through it, then gave Peter a look that he couldn’t read. He felt a wash of relief when she commented, “Impressive. In that little time?”

Peter shoved his hands in his pockets, shooting Tony an unsure look again before settling for a small shrug.

Pepper’s gaze lingered on him for longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually she just glanced at Tony and remarked, “Well, seems like you found yourself one worth keeping, Tony.” Then, she told Peter, “You just made a good first impression with the managing partner of this firm, Peter. Now get to work, it seems like Tony needs you to do something else.”

Peter nodded and scrambled out of the office, banging his elbow on the glass door, and heard Tony’s sniffed grin at his nervous antics behind him.

Peter strode forward, heading straight for the restroom. He burst in and stared at the mirror. God, he looked like shit—and he felt like it too. It had always been hard trying to resist dominance, considering how he’d practically been depriving himself of it for as long as he could remember. 

Staring at his reflection, Peter considered paying the club a visit again. He needed it, needed what the club could provide him with, and he knew it, no matter how much he didn’t like the idea. Besides, he’d been waking up feeling a little nauseous and looking a little pale lately, and it definitely wasn’t because of the weed. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. 

Peter splashed his face with cold water, hoping it would clear his mind of his troubling thoughts. It didn’t, but Peter wasn’t surprised. Leave it to him to struggle with his Dom act on his first day.

He chose to disregard the voice in his mind that told him he wasn’t even a Dom, and instead went to go find Tony the information he needed. The fact that he wanted to hear Tony praise him for his good work again may or may not have played a big role in motivating him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the start for Tony and Peter ;) 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please do leave comments and kudos!! crack for writers :) feel free to visit my [tumblr!](https://snowstark.tumblr.com)
> 
> **Next chapter: Peter grows a little desperate, and Tony calls him out in the middle of the night for an impromptu business dinner.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence filled the car until Peter couldn’t take it anymore. “So, um, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
> 
> “Maybe. If you promise to be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andddd i present to you.... a decently long chapter! i hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> a warning that peter engages in dom/sub play with someone other than tony (hello there, mr. bucky barnes). if you don't enjoy that, feel free to skip over it; all you have to know is that peter imagined tony during it. 
> 
> as always, a huge shoutout to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for being such an amazing, supportive friend and beta. if you haven't checked out their works yet, do it asap!! <3

Peter needed Tony to fall in love with him. 

Alright. That may or may not be a bit of an overstatement, but the truth was, Peter had developed a crush. On Tony. Who was his boss. What the hell was wrong with him? It had only been two weeks since he’d started his new job, and he was already getting into trouble. 

Peter hadn’t noticed it before, but he sure as hell did now—the way his heart fluttered a little every time Tony smirked at him, the way his breath hitched whenever Tony gave him that  _ look _ he’d grown to secretly love, the shivers that ran up Peter’s spine whenever Tony touched him, and goddammit, he did that a lot. His hands were always on Peter, always nudging him aside, giving him a good slap on the back, ruffling his hair, and hell, yesterday, he’d fucking  _ straightened  _ Peter’s tie until it satisfied him. 

Peter wasn’t sure if Tony was just a very hands-on person in general, or if there was something more to the story. He was pretty sure the man noticed the way he practically  _ preened  _ whenever Tony… did whatever Tony did. 

Peter was also discovering that he may or may not have been subconsciously encouraging Tony to keep on doing his thing with Peter, giving the Dom snarky little comebacks that made him grin, poking him back, and even going as far as  _ mocking  _ Tony about little things, like the fact that he always put way too much cream into his coffee when no one was looking. 

At least this whole thing wasn’t causing any trouble, Peter figured. No harm came out of it. 

That is, until the day Peter found that he had a fucking  _ semi _ after Tony growled—yes,  _ growled _ — “Good boy,” when Peter went to confront Loki about the fake drug test the man had tricked him into taking as “a hazing for Tony’s new associate.” 

Peter decided that it had to stop since then, because he wasn’t looking to be fired. If that happened, he’d never even get another chance to breathe the same air as Tony. 

* * *

He discovered that it wasn’t so easy to stop the thing he had going on with Tony; the chemistry between them was second nature and Peter couldn’t switch it off. And every day, it got worse to the point where Peter’s thoughts were filled with scenarios between him and Tony—some innocent, some not so much. God, this was so  _ wrong,  _ thinking about his boss this way. 

It didn’t help that Peter had noticed that Tony was like an impulsive, irrational teenager when it came to spending money on him, which he knew he should be a little weirded out by, considering that it probably wasn’t the norm for people on Tony’s level to buy things for their new associates. 

Peter wasn’t going to deny it; he had more money than he could ever remember having in his entire life now that he was earning a lawyer’s salary. That, and the extra few thousand Tony had paid him for his signing bonus meant he had a bit left to spend after bills but he was saving it for emergencies—like if his grandmother needed to go to the hospital, God forbid.

It felt surreal being able to pay ahead for his grandmother, rather than have to dig up money at the last minute, usually with sketchy methods. He just wasn’t willing to spend it on more suits yet, no matter how much Tony lectured that  _ ‘people react to how we dress, Peter. You’re a reflection of me, so you need to stop coming to work looking like you wore a suit from your high school graduation.’ _ Besides, even with his new income, he’d only been able to buy one suit and nothing more, so he would much rather spend it on food and rent. 

Peter was washing his hands when the restroom door opened with a bang, and Tony strode in. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

Peter patted his hands dry quickly with a paper towel, already flustered. “Uh…” He gestured around the restroom, bewildered. “I—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Tony waved him off dismissively and instead reached forward to yank Peter out of the restroom by his wrist. 

Peter stumbled along. He definitely wasn’t protesting over the fact that Tony was touching him, but it would be so much better if his hand was around his throat instead of—

“I figured out what that dick is up to,” Tony was telling him, and Peter blinked, realizing they were outside, which,  _ what? _ How had they ended up outdoors so fast? Peter had to jog to make sure that Tony wouldn’t keep hauling him by the wrist. “He’s been goddamn lying to our faces this entire time, so we’re going to pay him a little visit and—” 

Tony suddenly stopped in his tracks and stared at Peter, finally letting go of him. Peter felt a flash of disappointment at the loss of physical contact between them, but he pushed that feeling away. He was supposed to be professional; this was his  _ job  _ and  _ boss  _ and he was  _ not  _ about to fuck it up. 

Peter stared at Tony, confused when the Dom squinted at him, making him squirm a little. “What?”

“Didn’t I tell you to get new suits?”

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets self-consciously. “Yeah.”

Tony rolled his eyes and started walking again, evidently brushing it off as Peter being stubborn. “Then why haven’t you?”

Peter jogged forward a little to keep up with Tony’s long, brisk strides, and flushed a little at the question. “Uh, reasons.”

Tony whirled around, making Peter bump into his chest. Peter tried to stammer out an apology, cheeks going crimson, but Tony ignored him and instead queried, “What reasons?” When Peter didn’t answer, he said, “You know how much appearance matters in this field of work; how we present ourselves—”

“Tony—”

“I’ve given you this lecture before, kid—”

“No, it’s just—”

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it but—”

“Ican’taffordthem.”

Tony stared. “What?”

Peter shrank in on himself a little, feeling small and uncomfortable. “I can’t afford them,” he repeated. “I, uh, I don’t have enough money to, um, you know… rent and Grammy and stuff…” He trailed off, hoping Tony would get what he was saying so that he wouldn’t have to spell out everything for him.

“Jesus Christ.” 

“I, uh, I can try to—”

Tony turned on his heel, cutting Peter off mid-sentence, and strode forward as if nothing had happened.

Peter gaped for a few moments before hurrying forwards to catch up with the Dom. 

Tony didn’t bring up the subject again, which Peter was grateful for. He’d embarrassed himself enough already.

Which was why he was glad that no one was there to witness the surprised but beaming smile on his face when five brand new expensive, high quality suits were “anonymously” delivered to his house a few days later.

* * *

Peter refused to admit that Tony was his sugar daddy, despite the fact that it was very clear that Tony was acting like one. He just couldn’t figure out if it was intentional or not. Then he realized how ridiculous he was being, even contemplating the idea that Tony would willingly be acting as his sugar daddy and pushed that thought out of his mind.

Peter was convinced he was going insane.  _ Everything  _ reminded him of Tony, from the glass of scotch he was in the middle of drinking to the suit he currently wore. Peter was just happy it was a weekend; it meant he got some reprieve from Tony’s touch, Tony’s orders, Tony’s everything. 

Peter downed the rest of his drink in one go, pulled out a bill for it, and left the bar. He glanced at his phone, saw that he had one missed call from Sam, and sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to confront his problems; his mind felt muddled enough.

Peter knew what he needed. It didn’t mean that he liked it.

Still, it didn’t feel like he had a choice, so Peter found himself heading for _the_ club. There was one and only one reason he ever went there, and it was when he’d managed to resist biology all the way to his limits. Subdrop was never a fun thing to experience. 

It wasn’t far away, and Peter wasn’t intoxicated—he’d only had one drink, and he liked to think that he wasn’t a lightweight—so he decided to bike his way there. The fresh wind in his face would probably help him feel better anyway. He chose to ignore the few odd looks he received for biking around in an expensive suit. 

It wasn’t long before Peter stood in front of the club. It didn’t stand out next to the other buildings surrounding it; the only thing that was overtly noticeable was the glowing letters that made up the club name—La Brume.

Peter locked his bike before heading inside. He smiled, seeing the familiar face at the front desk.

“Hello, welcome to La Brume, is there anything in particular that you’re—Pete? Is that you?” 

Peter grinned. “Shuri!” He wrapped his arms around his friend tightly.

“Holy shit, Peter, it’s been so long.” She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “How have you been? What are you up to? Look at you; you’re looking better than you ever have!” She patted his arm, making a show of examining his suit and letting out a whistle.

Peter laughed, her happiness infectious. “I’ve been good; I got myself a job.” He smiled and followed her up to the desk, watching as she flipped through a book—schedules for the night, most likely. 

“I can tell. You don’t smell like junk food and sweat anymore.”

Peter frowned. “Excuse you, I never smelled like that in the first place.”

Shuri ignored him, instead saying, “So, Peter, what are you looking for tonight? We’ve got space for an extra performance, but judging by the look on your face, that’s not what you’re looking for. Rion is booked until eleven tonight, but I’m sure he’ll—”

“I don’t want Rion tonight,” Peter told her, and she looked surprised.

“You don’t want Rion? But you always—”

“I know, I’ve always scened with Rion the most.” Peter smiled fondly, thinking of old memories. He and Rion were compatible; they had the same kinks and wanted similar things, but Peter wasn’t looking for familiarity tonight. He was looking for something new. Something that could take his breath away, make him forget about Tony Stark for one night. “I’m looking for something different this time.”

“Alright, Petey, I can work with that.” With that, Shuri began furiously typing into her computer, no doubt in search for another Dom who’d fit Peter’s needs.

As Peter waited, he glanced around the club. There was a reason why he’d always been fond of this place—one, he’d found it all on his own without anyone else’s help, and he was rather proud of that, and two, everything that happened here was never spoken of outside these walls. Peter’s identity and orientation was confidential, and no one would be able to go through the records to see who’d been at the club. Peter also knew that La Brume was one of the few places that actually did background checks on their members to ensure that no abuse occurred—hence the reason Peter had a membership card. Without it, he wouldn’t even be able to enter.

“Aha!”

Shuri’s triumphant exclamation startled him, yanking him out of his thoughts. She swiveled the screen to him and pointed at a name. 

Peter leaned forward, squinting. “Bucky?” He rummaged around in his inner library in an effort to try to match a face to the name, but he came up blank. “Is he new?” He frowned.

“He joined about a month or two after you fucked off to neverland,” Shuri told him. “He’s trustworthy; I’ve supervised some of his scenes myself, so you don’t need to worry about him just because he’s a newcomer. We ran every background check we had on him.” Shuri leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I’m technically not supposed to say this because it’s outside my range of professional-behaviour-only policy, but I think you and him will be a great pair. Maybe even more than you and Rion.” She winked.

Peter was never one to refuse when Shuri told him something like that, so he gave her a nod and said, “Alright. When’s he available?”

“In about half an hour.” She typed something into her computer, and then scribbled down a note into the appointment book. Then, she shoved a folder into his hands. “This is Bucky’s information—you’ll find his kinks, his soft limits, hard limits, you know the drill. You have some free time, so make yourself at home and read it over.” She shooed him away. 

And that was how Peter found himself sitting on the black leather couch, reading over the papers he’d been given while sipping a glass of ice water. 

It felt like eons until the half hour finally passed. Peter was downing the last of his drink—he slightly regretted drinking so much because it was  _ not  _ charming to stop a scene in order to pee—when a low, hushed voice spoke behind him.

“Peter?”

Peter jumped, caught off guard, but he quickly recovered and placed the glass down onto the table in front of him before turning around. “Yes, that’s me.” He was met with the sight of a tall man standing behind him. “You must be Bucky.”

Bucky smiled and nodded. “I see that Shuri’s told you about me.” He released Peter’s hand, then gestured for him to follow. “I know you’re not looking to do a performance tonight—you want a private scene, is that correct?”

Peter gave a shy nod, following a step behind Bucky. God, he could practically  _ taste  _ the dominance flowing off of Bucky in comforting little waves, washing over him and soothing him. It was no surprise his instincts were screaming at him to kneel, to show Bucky how good he could be for him. He wished he could do that for Tony. 

“Shuri told me that Room C is booked for us.”

“That’s fine with me,” Peter said, watching Bucky scan his membership card to unlock the door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, gesturing for Peter to follow.

Peter stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him, and began observing his surroundings. He had been in Room C before; it was a cozy little place. There were numerous different toys laid out on the table and hanging from the wall by their handles, and to his right, there was an armchair with a cushion on the floor. A spanking bench was tucked in the corner towards his left. Peter smiled. It hadn’t changed much, and in a way, that comforted him. This was a place where he was  _ safe. _

“Peter?”

Peter blinked. “What?” He found Bucky looking at him questioningly, and he rubbed the back of neck sheepishly. “Sorry, ‘m just a little out of it right now.”

Bucky just hummed in response, then gently wrapped his fingers around Peter’s wrist. Peter let him pull his hand away from his neck and shivered when Bucky gently pressed his lips to the inside of his wrist.

“You’re okay,” the Dom murmured. “I’m going to give you what you need.”

Peter exhaled shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, and he nodded.  _ Please. _

And God, Bucky was so good, because Peter was _ flying  _ by the end of it. 

So it really wasn’t anything personal when Peter fantasized about  _ Tony’s  _ voice,  _ Tony’s  _ hands, and  _ Tony’s  _ comfort the entire time. 

* * *

He avoided Tony like the plague after what happened at the club. Which, to be fair, wasn’t saying much considering he was Tony’s associate and therefore impossible to hide without raising immediate suspicion (if there was one thing Peter knew about Tony for sure, it was that he was fucking observant as hell). Still, he did his best. 

For now, Tony didn’t seem to suspect anything, probably just thinking that he was buried in work, because believe it or not, being Tony Stark’s associate did not excuse him from the chain of command in the firm. It seemed that people enjoyed passing on some of their work to the rookie, and it didn’t help when people found out about his fast proofing skills. 

He didn’t care, though. He had a more pressing issue on hand—Peter hadn’t heard from Sam in two weeks. Under normal circumstances, he would have been alarmed, wondering if he’d finally been caught in the middle of selling pot, but he assumed that Sam was just still upset about the argument they’d had. Well, he hoped. 

Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the way weed made him feel. He missed the buzz he felt when he was high, the way he didn’t need to focus on all of life’s stresses, how carefree he felt in the knowledge that he could fuck around and no one would give a shit. 

But Tony had made it very clear to him that under no circumstances besides medical reasons was anyone in their firm to smoke, and he wasn’t going to go out of his way to disobey the rules. They had drug tests, and while Peter hadn’t had one besides the fake one that Loki had tricked him into doing, he was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be too long before he had to piss in a cup for a real one. 

Peter pulled out his phone to text Sam for the fifth time that day.

> **(Peter) Where are you? Are you okay??**

He stared at his phone for a few moments, as though that would increase his chances of getting a response. Nope. Nothing. He sighed and rubbed his forehead anxiously. He was so caught up in his worry that he didn’t notice Tony approaching. He yelped embarrassingly loudly when the Dom plucked the phone out of his hand and said none too quietly, “Slacking off already, Mr. Parker?”

Peter heard a few snickers from a few of the associates and felt a spark of irritation. He pushed it back down and reminded himself of their everlasting jealousy that he got Tony’s attention while they didn’t. He tried not to preen at that thought because  _ nope,  _ he was not about to let his mind wander that way again. Realizing that Tony was actually waiting for a response, he mumbled, “No.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. The only thing that gave away his serious facade was the quick flash of amusement in his eyes. “Then what? Texting your girlfriend?” He tutted and went on before Peter had the chance to reply. “You better be keeping your texts PG in the workplace, kid.” 

Peter huffed. “It’s  _ not  _ my girlfriend,” he said, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone, and snatched the phone back from Tony. “And if you’re just here to harass me, Tony, you can—” He stopped, then decided that it might be better to not say the last part considering that Tony  _ was  _ his boss, even if he knew the older man enjoyed banter just as much as he did. “Look, I’m busy.”

Tony just laughed. “Alright, alright. But you’re about to become even busier now. Come with me. No, leave that there, puppy. You can play fetch with that later.” He shook his head when Peter tried to gather up the papers he’d been in the middle of proofing. 

Peter flushed at the pet name and dropped the papers, quickly scooting out of his cubicle and following Tony out of the bullpen, which was really beginning to feel unfriendly considering the sniggers and whispers of the other associates (“There goes the golden boy.” “Don’t you mean Tony’s pet?”).

He tried to straighten up when two tall women passed by them, Peter mumbling a quick apology that went unheard and unacknowledged when he nearly bumped into one of them. A bitter laugh bubbled up in the back of his throat. He knew everyone here was Dominant (at least higher up in the food chain; he hadn’t been surprised to find that the janitorial team consisted entirely of subs), but seriously, did they just not have any common courtesy at all? Did being a Dom excuse them from having basic human decency?

“You’ve got your thinking cap on, pup; I can see it on your face. What’s worrying that genius brain of yours?”

Peter blinked, realizing that they were now in an elevator. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Tony hummed, tucking his hands into his pockets and not even sparing Peter a second glance.

Peter felt a spark of irritation. Did Tony really care about his worries, or was this all just a joke to him? Probably the latter. Tony didn’t really seem like the type to care. And that was exactly the reason why his pathetic pining over the man was an issue. Peter had enough to stress about already, and he wasn’t trying to add unrequited love to the list. 

Maybe it was the tension in his body from the unresolved fight with Sam, or maybe he was sick of hearing the other associates constantly talk shit behind his back. Either way, he wasn’t sure what possessed him to mutter mutinously, “You need to stop calling me names.”

That, for once, got him a surprised glance. Tony slightly frowned, brow furrowing. “Names?”

“Yeah. Like, it doesn’t help my case when you march down and call me ‘puppy’ or ‘kid.’”

“Your case?” Tony still seemed bemused.

“Uh,  _ yeah.  _ With my co-workers? The other associates?” Peter scowled and drew his shoulders up tightly, trying to mimic Tony’s fluid motions. He still didn’t really feel like a Dom, so he’d been secretly observing and trying to mimick Tony’s behaviour over the past few days. The man was possibly one of the most dominant men he’d ever met before. “I’m a little sick of being the omega of the pack.”

“Kid, what the hell are you talking about?” Tony snorted. The elevator doors opened and he strode out. Peter followed him, feeling every bit like the puppy he kept being called. 

“I guess… I dunno, I guess I just didn’t realize how eager people were to work under you. I mean, sure, I knew about the whole jealousy thing, but it’s getting a little extreme, Tony.”

“People are always eager to work under me.” Tony waggled his eyebrows meaningfully and Peter groaned. 

_ “Not  _ what I meant.”

Tony just smirked. “No? That’s a shame.”

Peter tried to hide the mini heart attack he had at those words. 

Tony led him towards his office, passing by Natasha and acknowledging her with a nod. Peter headed straight for the large windows, inhaling sharply at the view. No matter how many times he saw it, he wasn’t going to get used to it. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. One day, he promised himself. One day he would make it happen for him too. With that thought in mind, he turned back around to face Tony, anticipating at least a dozen files to be shoved at him.

“I need you to reorganize my record collection while I take care of some emails.”

Peter blinked at Tony’s words. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong. Yet.”

If Tony wasn’t Peter’s boss, he would’ve thrown his shoe at him. He was sorely tempted to do so even now. He wisely refrained. “You want me to…” He trailed off and pointed at the shelves of Tony’s records.

Tony nodded. “Do you always take this long to process orders?” he asked casually, dropping into his seat. “I can’t imagine how patient a Dom would have to be if you were a sub.”

Peter tried to ignore the way his heart dropped at that. Tony didn’t know. There was no way.  _ Stop being paranoid,  _ he told himself sharply. It was just another one of Tony’s nonchalant comments. He shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. He probably failed. “Do you want them done alphabetically?”

“Genre.”

Lovely. 

“Oh, and Peter? When you’re done with that, you can tackle this.” Tony dropped a blue file in front of him.

“What is it?” Peter reached out to take it, but Tony batted his hands away. He tried not to jump at the contact and masked it with mild irritation. 

“Pro bono. Again. Pepper asked me to take care of it this time—something about me “not caring enough” about our clients—but honestly, there are higher profile cases to get to, so I’m passing it off to you. You need the extra experience anyways, and I’m a firm believer in hands-on learning. But don’t tell anyone that I did, got it? And under no circumstances are you to screw it up.”

_ Hands-on learning. I can do some hands-on learning with you, Tony. Maybe with your—alright, Peter. Stop.  _

He mutely nodded, trying not to think about the growing pile of work to do. He added the pro bono case to the mental to-do list he’d made and crossed off  _ ‘Reorganize Tony’s crusty records’  _ in advance for motivation. 

Tony turned his attention back to his laptop. “Great. Get to work.”

Peter got to work. He was in the middle of organizing the records into piles when his phone buzzed. He dropped the Michael Jackson vinyl in his hands to yank it out of his pocket, and let out a long exhale when he saw that it was a text from Sam.

> **(Sam) I’m fine.**
> 
> **(Peter) Okok, good. I was worried.**
> 
> **(Sam) Last I checked, u didn’t seem too worried about our friendship.**
> 
> **(Peter) I’m sorry ok? I was frustrated and said shit I shouldn’t have. Can we meet or smth?? I’m free tonight if you are.**

Peter anxiously chewed his nails before pulling them away from his face. He’d been trying to get rid of that habit for a while now. 

> **(Sam) Yeah, k. I guess I missed you a bit too, dickhead. I have a fresh stash for us, but u have to take care of the beers. R u in?**

Peter hesitated, even as he knew he really didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t back out now, not after Sam had accepted his olive branch. 

He also knew he couldn’t afford to smoke when he had no idea when the next drug test was. Peter let out a small noise of frustration, then muttered, “Fuck it.” He would just stick to drinking and Sam would have to deal with it. He’d only whine about it for the first few minutes anyways; after that, he’d be too preoccupied with getting himself high. 

> **(Peter) We both knew I’d be providing the drinks anyways, asshole. See you tonight. Don’t come too early cuz I think I’m gonna finish work late. I’ll text you?**

“Language.”

“Hm?” Peter looked up.

Tony didn’t. “Language,” was all he repeated.

“Oh.” Peter blushed, realizing that Tony must’ve heard his whisper. God, did nothing slip past this man? His heart warmed a bit at the thought of Tony paying enough attention to him to catch a muttered curse. “Sorry.” He looked down again when his phone buzzed. 

> **(Sam) Yeah OK, Mr. Fake Dom. Just LMK.**

Peter scowled at that, but before he had time to type out a proper response, Tony said in a low tone, “Peter,” so he settled for sending Sam the middle-finger emoji and turned to face Tony innocently.

Tony looked torn between feeling amused and stern. He pointed his finger at the records, clearly going with the latter, and said,  _ “Work.” _

Peter gave a mock salute, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Yes, Sir.” He pretended not to notice the thrill that shot down his spine as the words left his mouth, and he spun around hastily to hide his warming face. 

If Tony noticed anything odd, he didn’t say anything. 

Peter’s phone buzzed again (probably Sam talking shit again) and his hand twitched but he didn’t move to pull it out. Because as much as he loved talking to his best friend, Peter wasn’t looking to disobey Tony’s order anytime soon, despite the fact that he wasn’t really Tony’s sub. No, that was left for his daydreams.

* * *

Peter got his work done faster than he’d predicted, which meant he had enough time to go visit Grammy before telling Sam to come over. He biked over to the home and asked the nurses how she was doing.

“She’s not happy about her meds,” Jules, one of the nicer nurses, informed him quietly. “I think it’s really time to switch to different ones, if you’re able to.”

Peter nodded. A month ago, he would’ve hesitated, but now, he felt comfortable enough to give the green light for an upgrade on the meds. He told Jules so, who smiled and took note of his decision before moving away.

Peter knocked on her door and entered. “Hi, Grammy,” he greeted quietly, shutting the door behind him. “You aren’t taking your meds, huh?”

Grammy blinked and beckoned for him to come closer, which he did. “They taste like asparagus,” she informed him seriously.

Peter smiled. “We’ll make sure the new ones aren’t asparagus-flavoured, then.” He sat down on the edge of her bed, giving her a small hug. “What do you think?” He gestured at his suit.

Grammy smiled back, eyes lighting up with recognition. “Your new job! Is it going well?”

Peter nodded. “It is.”

“Tell me all about it.”

Peter did. Though he made sure to leave out a few details, including the fact that he was faking his Dom act. He knew Grammy wouldn’t be mad at him for it, but he didn’t want to stress her out over trivial matters. Things were fine at work and they would continue to be fine.

By the time he left the home, he was in a much better mood. He shot Sam a text that he was free to come over now, biked home, and shed the suit jacket but made sure to hang it up nicely so that it wouldn’t wrinkle. 

Sam burst in through the door with a huge grin on his face. “Pete!” he exclaimed excitedly and pulled him into a hug. 

Peter laughed and hugged him back. It was as though they hadn’t had a big fall out the last few days. This was how shit was with Sam, though. Even when they argued, they always got over it and never spoke of it again. 

Sam clearly intended to do the same this time. He made himself comfortable on Peter’s couch and began to prepare the bowl so they could have a smoke together, just like the good old days. 

Except… they couldn’t.

Peter was, under no circumstances, not supposed to smoke. Tony would have his head if he did. 

Tony.

Tony, Tony, Tony. It always went back to him. 

“Stop taking so long!” Sam complained, and kicked his ass. Literally. “Go get our drinks, dickhead.”

Peter grumbled and shot him a good-natured glare before sidling to the kitchen. He yanked open his fridge and winced. Yeah, he needed to go grocery shopping. His fridge was empty, minus an egg salad that had some suspicious-looking blotches of green. Pulling a face, he tossed it in the trash before yanking out two beers and heading back to the couch. 

“What’re we watching?” he asked, handing Sam one of the beers. He got settled in, tucking his feet underneath his legs. “It’s not porn again, is it?”

Sam whacked him with a hand for his snark, then complained, “You’re sweaty!”

Peter looked down at himself. He was. Biking through Manhattan wasn’t the easiest feat. He should probably change, but that was too much work. So, he settled for ignoring Sam and just took a sip of his drink. “Give me the remote if you can’t decide, dickfoot.”

“Dickfoot?” Sam guffawed. “That’s a new one.” He handed it right over.

Peter smirked and flipped through the channels before finally deciding on an animal documentary. Sam groaned and he snickered. 

“Seriously?” he complained.

“Yes, seriously.” Peter inhaled sharply when Sam began to smoke. He shook his head and took a big gulp from his drink when Sam offered it to him. “No, I’m okay.”

Sam frowned. “Are you kidding? Peter, this is good stuff.”

“I know, you told me.” It came out sharper than he’d intended. “I just—I’m not in the mood, okay? I’m really tired. I’m surprised I can even handle this.” He lifted his beer in his hand. “You know how I get when I smoke when I’m exhausted.” A simple lie with a sprinkle of truth. 

“Alright, fine. Your loss.” Sam frowned as he watched the baby birds jump off of the cliff. “What the fuck are they doing?”

Peter shrugged. “They’re weird.”

They watched in silent fascination as the little ones hopped out of their nest. Peter felt Sam tense beside him when one of them fell abruptly and disappeared, and had to try and keep a straight face. For all Sam pretended to be a strong ass bitch, he had a soft spot for animals. Which reminded him…

“Hey, how’s that new job going? The one you started two months ago.” Peter felt a flash of guilt. Maybe he should’ve checked in with Sam earlier; that was what a nice friend did, wasn’t it?

“Hm?” Sam blinked, then frowned. “Oh, the animal shelter! It’s good. Really good, actually. There’s, uh, a dog called Lucky. I like her a lot.”

Peter smiled fondly. “Good.” He didn’t argue this time when Sam shoved the bowl at him. He was feeling more relaxed now and his mouth watered at the smell of the weed. One little smoke couldn’t hurt, could it? 

But Tony would be disappointed. 

Peter hadn’t been subject to Tony’s disappointment too much (yet), and he certainly wasn’t looking to. 

Tony would be upset. Peter wasn’t  _ allowed  _ to smoke. 

What would Tony do when he found out? Peter shivered, wetting his dry lips with his tongue as the image of him bare-assed over Tony’s knee popped into his mind. 

He was in the middle of dissociating (fantasizing) when the phone rang. He didn’t hear it at first, but when he did, it jerked him right out of his thoughts. He carefully put the bowl down on the ground and picked up. “Hello?” He turned the volume of the TV down, ignoring Sam’s grunt of disapproval. 

“Hey, kid.”

Peter stopped. “Tony?” He must’ve sounded a bit panicked, because Sam sidled a look at him. Clearing his throat, he hastily amended, “Tony. What can I do for you?” when what he really wanted to say was,  _ “Tony. How the fuck do you have my number, and why do I like that you do?” _

“A lot, actually. I’m outside of your house right now. So, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to put on the dark blue suit I bought for you, and make sure you match it with the navy tie that came with it.  _ Not  _ one of your skinny ties. Then you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, big guy.” What the fuck? “Tony, I… how do you have my address? Why are you outside? Where are we going?” 

“Business dinner. I need you there.” Tony sounded unfazed. “Hurry up. I’m waiting.”

Tony’s words sent a shiver down his throat and Peter swallowed hard, suddenly wanting nothing more than to—no, he was  _ not  _ going to think about that right now. He got to his feet numbly, then hesitated when he caught sight of Sam watching TV with half-lidded eyes. “Tony, I… I have a guest over—”

“Who?”

“Uh. My friend Sam—”

“He can wait.” 

“Um. Alright, cool.”

“What?”

“I mean, yes, Sir. I mean—” Peter facepalmed as his cheeks burst with heat. Thank  _ fuck  _ Tony couldn’t see him; it was bad enough that he could hear his babbling. “I’ll be out in five.” And he smashed the red ‘end call’ button repeatedly. 

Holy fuck. 

He just called Tony ‘Sir.’ 

Peter shakily extracted the suit Tony had described from the closet and slipped into it. He plucked out the tie and was looping it around his neck when he realized… “Shit,” he swore. He headed over to Sam, stepping over his laundry, and tapped him. “Sam. Sam! I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

Sam blinked at him. He was deep into smoking now. “Where?”

“Work,” Peter said apologetically. He lifted his chin, trying to force his headspace into Dom mode. “But it shouldn’t take long.” Hopefully.

Sam waved him off expressionlessly, looking away. Peter would’ve liked to dwell on that more, but he didn’t have time. He grabbed his phone and wallet and stepped out of the house. 

There was a shiny black car waiting outside. Making an educated guess, he opened the door and found Tony sitting in the back, scrolling on his phone. When the man didn’t say anything, Peter just stepped in and tried to appear confident as he gestured to himself. “Well? Is this up to your standards, Mr. Stark?”

Tony took a second to look him up and down, and Peter tried not to shrink back. Eventually, he failed and just busied himself with the seatbelt. 

When he looked back up, Tony was frowning. “You smell like pot.”

Peter blinked. “Oh, um, yeah. Sam was smoking.”

The frown didn’t disappear. “And you?”

The tone Tony had suddenly taken on made him shiver. It took every ounce of energy in his body to maintain eye contact. “I didn’t. I swear.”

“Breathe on me.”

“What?”

Tony’s eyes hardened. “Breathe. On me.  _ Now.” _

Peter instantly obeyed before he even realized what he was doing. 

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Okay, fine, yeah. You didn’t smoke.”

“I told you I didn’t,” Peter said, unable to keep the defensiveness out of his tone. 

Tony just looked away. 

Silence filled the car until Peter couldn’t take it anymore. “So, um, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Maybe. If you promise to be good.”

Peter swallowed, mouth dry. Tony sounded serious. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, I’ll be good.” He could already feel his armpit sweat staining his clothes. 

Tony just shot him an amused look, and Peter tried to use that as evidence of the fact that Tony was just messing with him, that he didn’t suspect anything weird about him. His submissive side shouldn’t be too obvious; he’d gotten through the worst of it at the club and he knew from previous experience that it would be a while before he had to go back. 

“So.” Tony’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Tony drummed his fingers rhymically on his knee, and Peter watched it quietly. “That’s where you live, huh?”

Peter shot him a look. “What about it?”

Tony’s mouth pulled back into a small frown. “It’s certainly not what I’d want for my associate.”

_ My  _ associate. Not  _ an  _ associate.

Peter shrugged. “‘s the best I can do right now.” It was true. Grammy, food, savings… priorities, priorities. His living space was small, but it wasn’t that bad. He could manage. Of course, to Tony, who was richer than anyone Peter had ever met before, it probably looked like a shittier version of a hobbit hole, creepy crawlers included.

Thankfully, they didn’t discuss Peter’s home any further. Tony moved on to inform him about the client they were meeting for a last minute dinner. Apparently, they were having Italian with the CEO of McKernan Motors and all Peter had to do was sit there, look responsible, smile, and maybe make a good first impression as Tony’s associate with his freaky memory. Peter could do that if it meant that he got to spend some time with Tony. 

“He’s Dom,” Tony told him. 

Peter stared, confused. “Um. Okay?”

Tony stared back for a few moments, then laughed. Hard. “His  _ name,  _ Peter. His name is Dom. Dominic.”

Peter flushed bright-red.  _ “Oh.”  _

Tony chuckled to himself quietly for the rest of their car ride. 

Dom, despite Peter’s initial misunderstanding, turned out to be a nice guy. He shook Peter’s hand with a firm grip when Tony introduced them to each other, then clapped Tony on the back. He seemed a little grouchy at first, but loosened up once Tony ordered some expensive wine for their table. Peter stayed quiet, just looking over the menu while silently panicking. What the hell was  pansotti alla genovese? Or penne all’arrabbiata? All he could recognize was the carbonara pasta and margherita pizza. 

The waitress arrived to take their orders and Peter freaked out even more. 

Tony seemed to notice the alarm on his face, because he just glanced at him a few more times, then leaned closer and said, “I’m ordering for you, relax. Put the menu down.”

Peter shot him both an embarrassed and grateful look. His heart warmed a little when Tony did exactly as he’d said he would, and he had to work hard not to preen at the thought of Tony deciding what he would be eating that night. The simple act of dominance made him ache for more. 

Tony had excellent taste. Peter loved everything he’d ordered —some fancy pasta with meat sauce, a plate that had what seemed to be bits of fried octopus and vegetables, and a dish with beans and parmesan. He was in the middle of getting through a particularly chewy piece of seafood when Tony unexpectedly called on him. 

“Peter’s read all about the company’s stats for this past year too, Dom. If you ever want to know something, he’s your guy.”

Peter choked. When had he read  _ stats?  _ But now, Dom and Tony were both looking at him expectantly and he felt his cheeks grow warm. 

Tony raised an eyebrow in a silent message of,  _ kid, don’t embarrass me in front of the CEO.  _

“Uh… sorry, the food… it’s just really good.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um.” He looked at Tony and widened his eyes.  _ Help.  _

Tony subtly tapped his thigh under the table, making him jump a bit, then held up three fingers, then two. Three. Two. Three… thirty-two. 

It clicked. 

Peter jumped into action immediately, rattling off numbers and statements from page thirty-two of the file Tony had tossed to him on his very first day at work. He’d skimmed it briefly while snacking on a donut and hadn’t looked at it again after that. He was pretty sure he’d even used it as a coaster at one point. Whoops. 

Dominic seemed impressed by the time Peter stopped. He shot Tony a look, then said, “Well, Peter, it looks like Tony was right. You  _ are  _ my guy.”

Peter smiled, trying to subtly wipe his sweaty hands on his pants. Somehow, he felt as though he’d passed the test. 

He wasn’t really addressed after that, so he took to watching (admiring) Tony in action. It seemed that Dominic was thinking of handing off his company to another guy in favour of working in manufacturing again. Tony’s eye twitched a bit at that, which Peter had grown to recognize as a sign of mild irritation, but the Dom spoke smoothly and confidently, effectively erasing any thoughts of selling the company in Dom’s mind. 

Tony looked really good tonight. 

He always looked good, but he was  _ glowing  _ tonight. Maybe it was the lighting. No. It was just Tony. Peter lost track of time as he observed Tony’s tongue flitting out to wet his lips as he spoke, the way he paused to take a sip of wine, the way the ring on his index finger glinted as he gestured.

At one point, Tony caught Peter staring and smirked. 

Peter, of course, blushed, which made Tony’s smirk grow. 

Peter was exhausted by the time Tony and Dom wrapped things up with a firm handshake. Peter shook Dom’s hand too, though he figured it wasn’t really necessary considering he was just there as Tony’s shiny little toy. 

Tony’s toy—now  _ that  _ did some things for him. 

_ No. Enough, Peter.  _

Tony’s driver was waiting for them outside already, and as they slipped back into the backseats, Peter couldn’t help but ask, “Is he  _ ever _ late?”

Tony shot him an amused look. “No.”

The car started moving and Peter let his eyes fall shut for a few moments. He was nearly asleep when Tony spoke. “Tired?”

He jerked awake. “What? No, it’s just… I didn’t sleep well.” He shrugged. “I need to get a new bed. The creaking keeps me up now.” 

“Mm.”

Peter glanced over and his hackles lifted. “Tony,  _ no.” _

Tony gave him an innocent look. “Hm?”

“You are  _ not  _ buying a bed for me.”

“I never said I was going to.”

“Please, I recognize the look on your face by now. It’s the look you get before you decide that I need another set of ties, or shoes, or some weird-smelling hair product—”

Tony pressed a finger to Peter’s lip, effectively shutting him up. “Okay. Fine. I won’t get a bed for you.”

Peter huffed. “Good.” He pulled away in case he caved to the temptation to fucking fellate his boss’ finger. 

Tony dropped him off at home without saying much else, just tapping away on his phone. “Off you go, then.”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks. For the food and stuff.” Peter realized he hadn’t even tried to pay for the bill. He probably wouldn’t have been able to afford it, but it was the effort that mattered, right?

“It’s no problem, kid.” Tony glanced at him, then reached over with an outstretched arm. 

Peter’s heart jumped and began to beat at a hundred fucking miles per hour. No way. This was not happening. He reached out to hug Tony back and—

“Not a hug; just grabbing the door for you.” Tony unlocked the door with a click, then pulled back, not even looking at Peter. “See you.”

Peter yanked himself back so hard that he swore he heard a crack from his shoulder, face growing hotter and redder than it had ever been. He got out of there real fucking fast. 

When he unlocked the door and stepped in, he was met with the potent stench of pot. Sam was nowhere to be seen; he’d taken off with a scrawled note:  _ Found a girl. Didn’t want 2 fuck her on your couch. Ciao.  _ He’d drawn the middle finger for good measure too. 

Peter tossed out the note, ripped off his clothes and let them pool on the floor, already hearing Tony’s lecture on proper maintenance of his suits, then passed the fuck out on his sad, creaky little bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please do let me know what you thought :) 
> 
> i actually have the scene between peter and bucky written, and i'm considering posting it as a oneshot for you to all read. let me know if that's something you're interested in!
> 
> **Next chapter: Tony makes a move on the chessboard, and Peter goes with it. Peter also messes up for the first time at work.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hey, Parker. We, uh, just couldn’t help but notice that you came into work today in Tony Stark’s car.” He leaned closer and waggled his eyebrows mockingly. “So, that’s how it works between you two, huh?”_
> 
> _“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter pushed into his seat and set his bag down, turning on his monitor._
> 
> _“Don’t play dumb.” Flash snorted. “You’re banging him, aren’t you? Does he make your little boy knees wobble, Petey? Hm?" ___
> 
> __Tony and Peter grow closer, and this brings some attention to them._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats profusely* so i almost forgot that today is the day to update this fic - lucky for y'all, i remembered on time. i hope i can keep up with these weekly updates LOL
> 
> special thanks to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for being the bestest beta ever <3 i appreciate u so much, bb!!

A loud banging on his door woke Peter up. Blearily rubbing at his face, he stumbled out of the room before he realized he was only wearing boxers and went back for a robe. By the time he emerged for the second time, the banging had grown louder and more insistent. 

“Jesus! Hold on! I’m coming!” He yanked the door open and was met with the sight of five bulky guys, all wearing blue uniforms. “Uh,” he said intelligently.

“We’re here to collect your things,” Bob, according to his name tag, informed him with a touch of impatience. “We’re supposed to be done by noon.”

Peter stared. Two things ran through his mind during the next few seconds. One, his secret was out, he was fired, and Tony was banishing him to Azkaban. Two, Tony was up to something that inevitably involved him spending his money on Peter once again.

He quickly found out that the latter was correct when he saw the moving truck outside of the house. Oh, no. Ohhhh, no, he didn’t. “Tony, you absolute fucking ass,” he muttered to himself, pushing past one of the men—Robin? Rubin? He didn’t even know—to rush back into his room. He grabbed his phone and shot off a text.

> **(Peter) What the hell???**

He tossed his phone on his bed and paced a bit. His phone blipped, and he snatched it back up.

> **(Tony) Did they wake you up? I wasn’t sure how early you wake up, but I figured 10 would be good enough. You’re a big boy.**
> 
> **(Peter) Tony. What the hell.**
> 
> **(Tony) Need I remind you of your language again, Mr. Parker?**
> 
> **(Peter) No. But I do need you to explain why you thought it would be a good idea to MOVE MY SHIT TO NARNIA**

Yes, Tony was his boss. But he was freaking out, so that overrode any proper associate etiquette.

> **(Tony) First of all, you’re not going to Narnia. Second, you said your bed creaks and that you can’t sleep b/c of it. I need my associate to be in top condition, so I decided to take care of that situation for you.**
> 
> **(Peter) Jesus. By buying me a house??? Are you crazy?**
> 
> **(Peter) No, don’t answer that. You are. It’s official. You’re literally a nutcase**
> 
> **(Tony) I have been told I taste nutty. ;)**
> 
> **(Tony) Alright, fine. Jokes aside, I did not buy you a house. You’re just moving into a suite connected to my condo. You’ll have your own space and you won’t be bothered. I promise it’s amazing. You can see for yourself when you get here.**

Peter didn’t bother gracing that with a response. He knew Tony wasn’t expecting him to either. 

Jesus. His boss was a fucking asshole. A fucking rich asshole who knew he could spoil Peter just the way he wanted to, and that, deep down, Peter would secretly enjoy it, crave it, and want it no matter how much he protested.

Peter watched as his belongings were carried out and into the truck. All things considered… it would be nice to not have to worry about rent on top of Grammy’s care—assuming Tony wouldn’t make him pay rent, which he knew for sure that the man wouldn’t insist upon. God, he could already hear him. 

_ “No, kid, you’re not gonna be paying me anything to stay here. You don’t see puppies running around to pay bills, do you?” _

Another slightly concerning matter: how in the world was he going to hide himself—his  _ true  _ self as a submissive—from Tony if he was going to live in such close proximity to the man? Sure, he would have his own space, but it would be  _ rude  _ to not spend time with Tony, right? Hell, it was the least he could—and should—do. 

What if his secret was discovered? What if he was fired? Where would he go then? He couldn’t afford to keep this place as a backup plan for an undetermined amount of time; he’d just be losing money then. Surely if that happened, Tony wouldn’t kick him out on the street. Would he?

Peter made his way to the kitchen, downed three pills for a developing headache, and gazed at the living space that was slowly being emptied out. Then, he shot out another text. 

> **(Peter) Are you sure? You’re 100% sure?**

The response was immediate.

> **(Tony) Positive.**
> 
> **(Peter) Thank you.**

The rest of the day consisted of Peter informing his landlord of his plans to be completely and permanently out of the place within the next two weeks. The guy readily agreed, and actually seemed rather happy that Peter would no longer be living there. He was probably excited to increase rent for the poor sucker who would live there next, Peter reckoned dryly. 

When he finished up with that, he ran a few other errands, including vaguely texting Sam about his new plans— _ vaguely, _ because he knew that Sam would freak out if he got the full story—before letting the moving men drive off. He unlocked his phone to see that Tony had sent him an address a few minutes ago. He opened it up on Google Maps, memorized the route, then hopped onto his bike and took off towards his new home. 

He stopped on his way there to buy two sandwiches from Delmar’s Deli, all the while trying to banish the anxiety that had arisen in his chest in the form of a tight knot. What if Tony didn’t like what he’d chosen for him? What if he had allergies? What if he thought the food was cheap and gross and nothing like his fancy Italian dishes? In the end, all he could do was remind himself that it would be better than showing up empty-handed.

When he arrived at the massive building—holy shit, this was where he would be living now—he wheeled his bike in, tracking a wet mark on the shiny marble floor, and received a barely concealed dirty look from the receptionist. “Hi,” he greeted pleasantly. “Um, maybe Tony told you that I’d be coming?”

Though unimpressed, she nodded and directed him to the private elevator. Peter was also ordered to leave his bike in the front, and when he hesitated, she gave him a tight smile and informed him that it would be taken down to Tony’s private parking space. Private this, private that. Jeez, Tony really was loaded. 

The ride on Tony’s elevator was even better than what he’d imagined. It was transparent, so he got to enjoy New York City from a view he’d never experienced before. He stared until his eyes went blurry and a voice sounded from behind him.

“Peter.”

Peter jumped and spun around. “Oh,  _ jeez. _ You scared me.” Rubbing a hand over his forehead, he cautiously stepped out, taking a look around. The apartment was  _ huge.  _ Overwhelmingly huge. The open-concept design of the space made it even more shocking since everything was visible from where he stood. It was warm-toned, with sleek leather couches, large glass windows, and even a breakfast bar. He wasn’t able to take everything in before Tony snapped his fingers in front of his face, making him blink.

“You still there, kid?”

“Um. Yes. Hi.” Peter passed Tony’s sandwich to him and shyly explained, “I just… I didn’t want to come empty-handed. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got one of my favourites. But it’s really okay if you ate already, or if you don’t want to eat it, or—”

Tony pressed his index finger to Peter’s lip, making him stop and inhale sharply. Tony really seemed to like doing that. Peter liked it too. 

“Shhh.” Tony looked at him consideringly, like he was trying to see whether Peter would start blabbering again. Something on Peter’s face must’ve assured him though, because he retracted his finger and said, “Thanks, kid. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Peter shrugged and mumbled out, “You’re welcome.” Glancing up at him, he gestured to his shoes awkwardly. “Do I…?” 

“Shoes off,” Tony agreed. 

Peter didn’t miss the comfortable black moccasins that Tony was wearing as he bent down to unlace his shoes, and judging by the man’s smirk, he knew that Tony saw his glance. Okay. So this was just a bit of power play, then. He didn’t mind; it felt  _ right  _ because he was a submissive in Tony’s household—even though in reality, Tony was probably just trying to mess around with him. 

When he was standing in his grey socks, Tony stepped aside to properly let him in. “Coffee?” he offered.

Peter nodded and watched as Tony began to set a pot of coffee. “Um, Tony…” He paused to clear his throat. “This is… thank you. Really. I know it’s a bit…” Odd. Weird. Inappropriate? So then why did he like it so much?

“You’re welcome.” Tony passed him a mug of coffee. “Your things are moved into the suite. You can go check it out now, if you want.” 

Peter nodded and let Tony guide him to his new living space. They circled around to the back of the condo and Tony opened the door. “This used to be my storage space, but I cleared it out recently. Like I said, you’ll have your own private space. There are basic kitchen appliances, but they’re not as good as the ones in the main condo. You’re always welcome to hang around there instead, if you want to.”

If he wanted to? Hell yeah, he wanted to. “Okay. Thank you.” Peter stepped into the suite, inspecting his new place. He was already in love. 

The living room was a bit smaller than Tony’s, but still equally cozy. There was a massive wall TV, and a mini bar in front of the modest kitchen. He opened a door and was met with the sight of a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. All of his belongings were there, just like Tony had explained, and he suddenly found himself wondering what had happened to his old furniture. He didn’t ask—his shabby pieces were old enough for it to be a wonder that they held up until now. Plus, he really kinda sorta liked the idea of Tony deciding what could stay and go, like he had a proper say in Peter’s life now. Like he was Peter’s Dom.

“Do you like it?”

Peter let out a huff of incredulous laughter. “Do I like it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Tony, this is unbelievable. I love it. I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. I mean, you really don’t want me to pay rent or anything? Like, I can—”

“No.” Tony held up a hand, stopping him. “No rent, kid. If you really feel bad about it, you can spend a few extra hours at the office on a few of my cases.” Which, they both knew wasn’t really a problem for Peter because he could most definitely handle that. Tony appraised him, then said, “I’ll let you get settled in. Like I said, no need to be shy. Treat the main condo like it’s your own.”

Peter nodded and said, “Okay. Thank you again,” when in reality what he wanted to do was rush forward and kiss the shit out of Tony. 

Tony acknowledged his gratitude with a nod and stepped out, closing the door behind him. 

Peter immediately dove for the bed— _ his  _ bed. Sinking into it, he closed his eyes and lay there spread-eagle. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “This is the best day of my life.”

* * *

“Okay. How does this look?” Peter swivelled the laptop so that it was facing Tony. 

Tony looked at it for approximately 0.3 seconds before turning his attention back to the papers he was holding. That was enough of an answer.

Peter groaned and slammed his head into the screen. “For god’s sake. This is harder than it should be. Where the hell do Harvard graduates even like to eat?” 

“Maybe if you’d actually graduated from Harvard, you’d know.” 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” 

They were lounging in Tony’s living room, sitting across from each other. It was a thing they did now once they got home from work, and Peter found himself settling into the routine. It was comforting, and he suspected that Tony enjoyed the banter as much as he did. Sometimes, Tony would read his papers out loud, and Peter would quip little comments just to see how far he could push before eliciting a reaction from the older man. He would be doing that right now if he had a choice, except tonight, Tony was looking over one of his mergers while Peter struggled to find a restaurant for his rookie dinner. 

“Why am I even doing this again?”

“Because you’re the rookie of the associates. And as the rookie, you get to host your very own dinner for the other associates. Now isn’t  _ that  _ just lovely?”

“Okay, _yes,_ but why is that important?” At this point, Peter was bitching just for the sake of bitching. “They all hate me, so why am I wasting my time trying to pick a fancy restaurant for people who’d line up frothing at their mouths when given the chance to stab me in the back?”

That finally got Tony’s attention. He put down his papers, giving Peter the look that never failed to make him squirm, and said, “Rookie dinners don’t exist for fun, kid. This is your chance to shine. Pick out a good restaurant and make a lasting impression on the associates,  _ and  _ some of the partners—like me. You need to show that you  _ get  _ it, because if you don’t, you’ll never move up the food chain.”

“But I already left an outstanding impression on you. Isn’t that enough?” He couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice. 

Tony gave him a pained look, then gestured for him to pass his laptop. Peter was more than happy to oblige. A few minutes later, Tony tossed it back to him so that he could see the restaurant website he’d pulled up and said, “There. Are you happy?”

Peter gave Tony a dazzling smile. “Fucking ecstatic.”

Tony rolled his eyes. 

As Peter got up to skip to his room to put away his laptop for the night, Tony called after him, “And watch your language!”

Yes, Sir.

* * *

Apparently, if Peter “behaved,” he was allowed to commute to work with Tony’s private driver. So, he behaved. He liked behaving for Tony. Mostly because it gave him the opportunity to have extended moments of surreptitiously staring at the man. Delicious.

The ride to work was pleasant and Peter found himself walking with a happy skip in his step as he headed up to the bullpen. His good mood faded when he saw a few of the other associates clamouring around his cubicle. Hesuppressed a groan and marched right up to them. “Hey, guys. What are you doing? Isn’t there actual work to get done besides gossiping?”

They exchanged a few glances and smirks, and then one of them—Flash, who Peter suspected had had a stick up his ass even in the womb—remarked, “Hey, Parker. We, uh, just couldn’t help but notice that you came into work today in Tony Stark’s car.” He leaned closer and waggled his eyebrows mockingly. “So, that’s how it works between you two, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter pushed into his seat and set his bag down, turning on his monitor. 

“Don’t play dumb.” Flash snorted. “You’re banging him, aren’t you? Does he make your little boy knees wobble, Petey? Hm? You know, I always thought you were a low level Dom. You wanna know why I think that?”

“Please, go right ahead. I’m intrigued.”

They all jumped, including Peter, and spun around to see Tony leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed. He raised an eyebrow and prompted, “Well?”

“I—Mr. Stark!” Flash’s eyes were wide.

_ What a fucking tool.  _ Peter scowled.

“We were just—I wasn’t—”

“Out.” 

They disappeared in a flash, heading straight for the associates’ break room. 

Tony strode over to Peter and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Peter’s shoulders sagged, face burning. He really hoped Tony hadn’t heard what Flash had said. On one hand, he appreciated Tony coming to the rescue. On the other, he hated that Tony had come to the rescue, like he couldn’t hold his own against the others. “I’ll finish proofing the contract for Debeque’s merger and bring it up to you in an hour.” 

Tony gave him a nod of approval, which sent a pleased zing down Peter’s spine. Then, Tony reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Yours.”

“What’s that?” Peter took it, then gaped. “No way.”

Tony smirked. “Yup,” he agreed, popping the ‘p.’ “Your very own business card as an associate of Jarvis & Potts. Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“Fucking fantastic.” Peter looked up, then blanched at the look on Tony’s face. “I mean— _ just  _ fantastic. Amazing. Spectacular.” He sheepishly slipped the card into his wallet.

Tony dropped a folder of papers onto his lap, making him jump. “Take a look at these before you go over to Joy’s later today. And just a heads up, she’s going to make you have a tea party with her dolls. Humour her.”

“Uh… right.” Peter hoped Tony was kidding. He probably wasn’t. He opened the folder, quickly skimming through the first page, then blinked and looked up as Tony’s words registered properly in his mind. “Wait, you’re not coming?”

Tony gave a grimace. “Can’t. Pepper needs me to sit at the big boy table today as her right hand. Now, normally I’d just postpone the meeting with Joy, but I know that you’ll get the job done. You’re smarter and better than everyone else here, and Pepper will actually know your name if you can handle things as important as this one on your own. Show her that you’re a pitbull, so that both of our reputations go up. Make sure you get Joy to sign those papers, because if she doesn’t, our pretty nine-figure deal won’t be good to go.”

Peter gave him a determined nod. “It’ll get done,” he promised. 

* * *

He must’ve jinxed his luck with his cockiness, because he couldn’t keep his promise. 

He was standing in front of Tony’s desk, trying not to wring his hands while feeling like a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs. God, he’d fucked up  _ so bad.  _ There were alarm bells going off in his head because  _ ohmygod,  _ he’d talked a client out of what should’ve been an easy covenant. He deserved to get fired. Or punished. Or both. He hung his head, unable to resist any longer.

“Tell me what happened again.” Tony was massaging his forehead, looking torn between wanting to strangle Peter and himself. “Because from what I understand, it shouldn’t have ended this way considering everything was set to go, so I’m failing to understand what the hell happened for the client to back out.”

“I… I’m sorry, Tony.”  _ Sir,  _ his brain corrected. Peter blinked away the stinging in the back of his eyes. 

“I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation.”

“I don’t… we were just having the stupid little tea party, and she asked about my parents, and I told her how Grammy raised me.” Peter scrubbed his face with his hands. “I ended up talking about how Grammy and I didn’t have much time together once she got placed in the home, and… God, I shouldn't have said that.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Tony agreed frostily. “You know what you just did? You just destroyed the one chance you had to stand out in front of Pepper. You better goddamn hope that she doesn’t catch a word of this before I fix it.” He got up and paced before heading to pour himself a glass of water. “At  _ least _ tell me that you realize where you went wrong.”

Peter nodded miserably. “I planted the stupidest idea in her mind. That she should just quit her doll-making business and spend the rest of her time with her family, which renders our deal useless because it’s a contract for her to carry on with her work for another five years. And now she doesn’t want to.” His mouth was dry and he longed to down a glass of water himself, but he didn’t dare ask. “Tony, I can go and fix this, I know I can—”

“No.” Tony’s voice was sharp. “Don’t. I’m going to take care of it,  _ now,  _ or Pepper will have both of our heads. Nat!”

Natasha immediately appeared at the glass door. “Mm?”

“Tell Joy that I’m coming over right now.” Tony got up, buttoning his suit jacket. “She’s about to have another tea party.”

“Got it.”

“Tony…” Peter stepped forward hesitantly, feeling more off balance than ever. “I… should I…?” He gestured meekly towards his bag, which he’d dropped on Tony’s couch upon entering his office. 

“No.” Tony pursed his lips. He was still clearly pissed off. “You’ve done enough. Go back to proofing duty on the Bainbridge briefs, and get Wyatt’s patent filed.”

“Are you sure? I can—”

“I said no.” Tony pocketed his phone and straightened his tie. “Puppies don’t clean up their own messes.” With that, he left the office without even sparing Peter a second glance.

Peter’s shoulders sagged as he picked up his messenger bag and slipped out of Tony’s office. He didn’t miss the slightly sympathetic glance that Natasha shot at him, but he ignored it. He didn’t deserve it. 

He headed straight for his cubicle, sitting down heavily in his seat and pulling out the patent form from his bag. How the hell did you file a patent? He could already hear Tony’s voice if he asked: _ “Figure it out. Or maybe you should actually get a law degree so that you know how to do this, because it should be on the same level of difficulty as wiping your ass.” _ So, he ended up making a deal with Gregory, exchanging his patent form for three more boxes of Bainbridge proofing. Great. He’d be here all night. 

As he worked, highlighting and tacking on sticky notes to a few pages, he couldn’t help but remember the incredulous look on Tony’s face when he’d come back to the office with unsigned papers, the disappointment that was evident in his tone, and the barely suppressed anger. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to go back in time so he could start all over again, fix what he’d messed up, get the damn papers signed, just so he could see Tony’s proud smirk, hear him say,  _ “I knew I was right to trust you,”  _ know that he was worthy of being Tony’s associate. 

“Hey, Parker! Is it true that you talked a client out of signing?” Flash appeared at his desk, looking absolutely delighted. “How the hell do you even manage to do that?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Peter muttered, refusing to give him the satisfaction of showing a reaction. “Get out of my face.”

“Ooooh, or what? Are you gonna call Daddy? Oh, my bad, I mean Mr. Stark. That name is reserved for just you at home, isn’t it?” 

Peter flipped him off, then got back to work. 

It was a quarter past one in the morning when he finally finished with his work. He turned off the mini bluetooth speaker he had brought in on his first week; all of the other associates had left already, so he hadn’t been shy in blasting his music. He shoved everything into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out of the office, bracing himself for a cold walk home.

He was surprised to see a familiar black Mercedes waiting for him outside. Tony rolled down the window and flicked a finger to indicate that he was to get in. The simple gesture made Peter shiver, and he made a mental note to look into the level that Tony was. He was probably a Level 1; there was no way he was anything less. “You weren’t waiting for me the whole time, were you?” he asked hesitantly as he slid into the car. 

Tony looked at him impassively. “You weren’t about to walk all the way home in the middle of the night. You’d probably get mugged, and then I’d have to settle for a less competent associate in your absence.”

“Right.” Peter sucked the inside of his cheek as the car began to move. “Well, I’m not sure how much faith you have in my competence anymore after what happened with Joy today.”

There was a small pause, then Tony sighed. Peter winced, bracing himself for another lecture, but was taken by surprise when Tony intoned softly, “Kid. You made a mistake. It was a stupid one, and one that definitely shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but I fixed it. Joy signed the deal after a nice hectic day with her grandchildren. It’s not the end of the world. Just don’t let it happen again.”

Peter swallowed and nodded jerkily. “I won’t,” he swore. “Did… did you tell Pepper what happened?” He knew there was no way she hadn’t heard about this little mishap; the woman had eyes in the back of her head. Nothing ever slipped past her. 

Tony glanced at him, clasping his hands in his lap. “No. Why would I do that?”

“Because it was my fault.” 

“And you’re my responsibility. So it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

Peter fell silent, not knowing what to say in response. Tony seemed happy to stay quiet too, because he pulled out his phone to double check his emails. He quietly watched Tony work, wanting nothing more than to just lean sideways and rest his head on Tony’s shoulder, feel the warmth radiating from his body, close his eyes while Tony played with his hair. He had to pull back from the fantasy. It didn’t do any good, because he knew it would never happen. Tony didn’t know that he was a sub, and he had to keep it that way.

But it seemed like today was a day of contradictions, because it wasn’t more than a week later that his deepest darkest secret was discovered by the man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! please tell me what you thought! <3 ideas are also welcome, send em in! 
> 
> feel free to visit my [tumblr](https://snowstark.tumblr.com), and if you haven't already, check out my sugar daddy tony/peter fic [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798362/chapters/70625118#main)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, why?” He threw up his hands exasperatedly and grabbed the files on Tony’s table. “Maybe I didn’t find anything because there is nothing to find. Have you ever thought of that, big guy? Or is your ego too inflated to see past anything but your nose?”
> 
> Tony’s head snapped up, and he gave Peter an incredulous look. “What did you just say to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats profusely* hello all! i hope you enjoy this chapter that i nearly forgot to upload (again). i've been having a rough few weeks lately, so my writing motivation has dropped severely. i still have one completed chapter and one half-finished one to offer you all, so hopefully i'll be able to keep up by writing a bit every day. apologies in advance if my updates temporarily slow down (which they hopefully won't!)
> 
> special shoutout and thanks to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com)! you deserve the #1 Beta title :p

It all started when Peter didn’t know the lyrics to the Harvard song. 

So, when all of the associates broke out into victory song in honour of the firm winning a hundred million dollar lawsuit, he just mouthed along while sweating profusely. He was put on the spot when Loki pointed right at him, clearly expecting him to take the spotlight. “My favourite part!” he blurted out with a weak grin. He instantly realized it was the wrong thing to say.

Loki raised an eyebrow, and all of the other associates stared at him like he’d sprouted a second head. 

He was saved by Tony when the man strode down and put a stop to the ridiculous charade. “Keep acting like this and you’ll embarrass us so much that I’ll put you all on file room duty.” There was no obvious heat behind his threat, but Peter figured that the others listened just because it was Tony Stark. 

Peter mouthed, “Thank you,” to the Dom.

Tony just smirked, leaned so close that Peter could feel his warm breath on his ear, making him shiver, and said lowly, “Learn the lyrics to the goddamned Harvard song so you’re not a damsel in distress next time.”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

The rest of the morning was uneventful, but Peter found himself feeling weird and jittery the entire day. He jumped at every little noise, even if it was all the way across the room, and flinched so hard that he turned his monitor off when Gregory sneezed. His head was pounding and the room felt too bright, which was crazy, because it was the same as it always was. So what was the problem? 

Eventually, he had to head downstairs to the lobby to take a breather, but before he could leave the building entirely, he was yanked back with a hand on the back of his neck. It made his knees shake embarrassingly hard and he had to grab the wall to prevent himself from collapsing. “Shit!” he swore, and spun around. 

Tony stepped back immediately, looking taken aback. “Jesus, you okay, kid?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Peter buttoned his suit jacket and tightened the knot of his tie, hoping it would help him warm up. He was freezing. “You just surprised me.”

Tony looked unconvinced, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. “I’ve done that to you before. You never reacted that way.”

“It’s just a bad day today,” Peter muttered. It was the truth—it was a terrible day, but he just didn’t know why. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d had to…  _ oh.  _ Was this…? But there was no logical reason why he would be  _ dropping _ now; it wasn’t the usual time for him to need a visit to the club, and he had no idea why he’d be feeling that urge early. All too aware that Tony was watching him closely, Peter forced a smile and said, “See? I’m okay now.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Stay inside,” he ordered. “I don’t need you catching a cold.”

“But I wanted some fresh air.”

“Open a window.” Tony shrugged and crooked a finger. “Come with me. I want you to take a look at something.”

Peter helplessly trailed after him, throwing a longing glance at the streets. “There aren’t windows for me to open in the bullpen.”

“You’re coming to my office. You can open one there.”

Peter quietly followed Tony inside. The man’s eyes bore into him and he pulled his arms tightly around his sides, wanting nothing more than to escape that knowing gaze.  _ Tony can’t know,  _ he reminded himself. It was nearing ten now, which meant there was a good eight or nine hours left before he could go home. He could do it. Once he got home, he’d make up some sort of an excuse and go to the—

“Peter!”

Peter jumped. “What?”

Tony crossed his arms across his chest, looking both concerned and annoyed. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”

“Of course I did.”  _ Not. _ Peter followed Tony out of the elevator, past Natasha’s desk, and into the office. 

Tony promptly opened a window and gestured exaggeratedly towards it. “Alright now, princess?” He firmly pushed Peter down onto the couch, making Peter cringe because he  _ knew  _ his back was damp with sweat. “You look like shit. Are you coming down with something?”

“No, I’m fine.” Peter poured himself a glass of water, busying himself so he couldn’t dwell on how crappy he felt. “What did you need me to look at?”

Tony got straight to business, dropping two folders onto the glass table in front of him. “These two.” He gave Peter a moment to sluggishly pick them up before continuing. “Morello Asset Management. Gabby Stone, one of the traders for the company, purchased ten million dollars worth of stocks in Lunardi pharmaceuticals before their FDA approval.”

“Which tripled the money,” Peter observed, skimming the pages. 

Tony gave him a nod of approval. “That's right.”

The simple acknowledgement made an embarrassing amount of saliva pool in Peter’s mouth. God, was this how it would be all day? Because if so, he was in for a  _ long _ ride.

“Now, our clients say that they weren’t involved with the trade. Gabby made the trade based on a tip sheet that she received. The DOJ’s flagged this, and now she’s looking at seven years.”

Peter frowned. “Okay. And you’re telling me all of this because…?”

Tony glanced up, scanned the hallways, and when they were clear, he said in a lowered voice, “There’s something wrong with this case.”

“Uh, okay.” Peter stared, trying to understand. “Tony, everything looks pretty straightforward with—”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “My gut tells me that there’s more, and I always listen to my gut. Now, I don’t have the time to look into this because my hands are full with the Price sisters, so I need you to do it for me—and do it on the down low. Can you do that?”

Peter licked his dry lips nervously. “Isn’t this… isn’t this going against our clients’ wishes? I’m pretty sure that’s a valid reason for us to get fired.”

An unimpressed look. “You’re not going to get fired. I won’t let you.”

“Right.” 

“What are you still doing here? I thought I told you to get this done.”

_ Yes, Sir.  _

Peter got straight to work. He wasn’t sure if it was the massive headache or his fast approaching drop, but he ended up finding nothing, and he told Tony as much, unable to help but feel as though he’d disappointed the man yet again.

“I gave you the whole afternoon, and you didn’t find anything?” Tony looked both surprised and aggravated.

He had a right to be. Usually, Peter could handle investigative matters within two hours. “I…” Peter gestured helplessly. “I tried, I really did. All I ended up doing was comforting Gabby while she cried before she disappeared and that’s… not exactly helpful for us. I tried to look into the tip sheets more, but Mr. T—the guy who seems to think his dick is the biggest there—was just a douchebag. He gave me nothing.”

“When they give you nothing, you need to  _ press _ —”

“I  _ did.”  _ Peter rubbed a hand across his forehead. “You tell me that all the time. Press where it hurts. Well, I tried, and all that ended up hurting was my head. Tony, are you sure you’re not just being a little paranoid about this case?”

Tony scowled and leaned back in his chair. “Keep looking.”

_ Yes fucking Sir. _

Peter turned to storm out of the office with more attitude than necessary and bumped right into Pepper. He had to practically bite his tongue in half to not melt into a puddle on the spot, because if Tony was a Level 1 Dom, Pepper was off the charts. His muscles tightened and his instincts were screaming  _ DomalertDomalert!  _

“Tony.” She brushed right past him, ignoring the way he froze and ducked his head. “What’s this I hear about the Morello Asset’s case taking longer than it should?”

Tony smiled tightly. “Pepper. It’s being handled, I promise. I’m all over it. There’s just been a bit of a… speedbump.”

Pepper snorted. “A speedbump. Well, you better get rid of that speedbump, or there’ll be consequences. Do what our clients tell you to, Tony. Bring Gabby in and finish the case.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Tony stood and gestured with open hands. “You know me so well, Pep.”

Peter gulped when Pepper grinned, shark-like. “You’re right,” she agreed sweetly. “And that’s exactly how I know you’re bullshitting me right now.” There wasn’t a trace of amusement in her tone. “Do what the clients say before they fire us. If they do, I won’t be pleased.” With that, she strode out. 

Peter exhaled shakily and looked at Tony expectantly. “Well? You heard the woman.”

Tony sat back down, jaw flexing. “Keep working on it.”

Peter gaped incredulously. “Are you joking? Because she definitely wasn’t.” 

“I’m not joking either. And if I have to repeat myself again, you’ll definitely know I’m dead serious.”

“I—” Peter stopped, then gave up and left the office, knowing that it was a fight he wasn’t going to win.

It was absolutely useless. He wasted valuable time to try and dig up evidence that would satisfy Tony’s gut feeling and came up unsuccessful. Feeling thoroughly subdued and royally pissed off at both himself for feeling so pathetic and Tony for making him spend the majority of his day tracking a situation that was most likely going to finish at a dead end, he headed back up to his office.

He entered quietly and waited until Tony finished typing up his email. He sent it off with a  _ whoosh,  _ then finally looked at Peter. “Well? What do you have for me, squirt?”

Peter made a face. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second…” He braced himself. “Nothing.”

Tony’s expression was unreadable. “Okay. Why?”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, why?” He threw up his hands exasperatedly and grabbed the files on Tony’s table. “Maybe I didn’t find anything because there  _ is  _ nothing to find. Have you ever thought of that, big guy? Or is your ego too inflated to see past anything but your nose?”

Tony’s head snapped up, and he gave Peter an incredulous look. “What did you just say to me?”

Peter ignored the shiver that Tony’s tone sent through his body. “You didn’t listen to me the first time, and now you’re here complaining to me and expecting me to solve it while you tell Pepper that you’re all over it. So if you can’t do anything about it, then what the hell do you want  _ me _ to do? I mean, aren’t you supposed to be the one showing me the ropes?” His chest was tight with frustration. He wanted nothing more than to pass out in bed and sleep until next summer.

The corners of Tony’s lips tucked into a frown and they were both silent for a few moments before Tony finally spoke. “You need to take the rest of the day off.”

Peter shook his head and looked down at his feet. “No, I’m fine.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion. Take the day off. Now.” Tony snatched the files out of his hands and pointed at the doorway with them. “Out. Go home, order some food, get some sleep, and cool down.”

“Fine.” 

Peter did exactly that. He went home, ordered a pizza and ate while watching TV in Tony’s living room, then passed out in his bed.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept for, but when he woke up, it was fairly dark outside. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out of the suite and into the living room to—

“You’re awake. How do you feel?”

Peter jumped, then turned to face Tony. The man had been sitting on the couch so still and quietly that Peter hadn’t even noticed him. “Oh. Uh, good, thanks.”

“I figured you didn’t eat dinner. I waited for you.” 

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s eat.”

Peter silently nodded and followed Tony to the dining table, surprised to see that Tony had prepared some rice, steak, coleslaw, and mashed potatoes. It made his mouth water and he was more than eager to take his seat. 

As they began to pile the food onto their dishes, Peter hesitated, then spoke. “Tony, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier—”

“It’s fine, kid.” Tony passed him the mashed potatoes and Peter quietly accepted it. “That was at work. We’re at home now. No harm, no foul.”

“Okay. But I just… I didn’t mean to speak to you that way.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Tony glanced at him. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

“Then we’re okay.”

Peter nodded jerkily, relieved, and began to eat, sparing Tony a glance now and then to check the man’s expression. As usual, Tony’s face didn’t really give anything away. He looked back down, wishing that he could make it up to Tony for his rude attitude earlier, to  _ show  _ him how sorry he was so that he could  _ earn _ Tony’s forgiveness instead of it being handed over to him on a silver platter, all the while knowing that he didn’t need to. But he wanted to. 

So, he finished eating quickly, got up from his seat, and said, “I’m going to try and see if there’s anything I missed. I won’t be long.”

Tony frowned. “It’s dark outside.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s fine. I used to bike in the dark sometimes; I know my way around.”

Tony didn’t seem happy, but he said, “Be home soon.”

“Okay, Mom.” Peter rolled his eyes teasingly and left the house. 

He paced the streets for a while, but the fresh air didn’t jumpstart his brain like he’d been hoping it to. It was the goddamn drop he was going through, and he needed a way to alleviate it. And that was how he ended up at a bar, ordering a drink for himself. 

That was also how he ended up getting information from a few drunk employees of Morello Assets Management about the biggest trades they’d made, and that was Tony’s smoking gun in proving that, just as he’d suspected, Gabby Stone was innocent because she’d been handed a  _ fraudulent  _ tip sheet. 

Peter was in the middle of scribbling down the numbers on a napkin when his phone rang. Thinking it was Tony calling to nag at him for staying out too long, he rolled his eyes and pulled it out. “What?”

“Whoa, easy there, tiger. What’s up with the attitude?”

Peter did a double-take. “Sam?”

“You bet. Are you busy right now? Come over for a smoke, Pete. I miss hanging out with you.”

Peter felt a flash of guilt at those words. He missed hanging out with Sam too, just like the good old days. Work had been slowly taking over his life, and now that he thought about it, when was the last time he’d visited Grammy for something more than a quick five minute drop-in?

“Jesus, are you brain-dead or something? Are you coming or not?”

“Shut up, asshole, I’m on my way.”

It would be fine. He would be fine. Smoking—not a lot, just one little bowl—would help with his drop, which he needed because he couldn’t afford to drop by the club now. It would make him an efficient associate for Tony tomorrow, which was what the man needed. He’d written down the numbers, and even if he lost the napkin, they were burned into his mind. There was no possible risk whatsoever with meeting up with Sam for a quick little smoke. 

He was totally making up excuses. Tony would be mad. Tony would be disappointed. He didn’t need Tony disappointed in him  _ again.  _ If he got caught, he’d be fired. 

If. 

The consequences he could face were based on a very small chance that Tony would find out. So, technically, it was fine. 

The first thing Sam did when they met at his house was shove a joint at him, so how could he resist? 

He still remembered to text Tony that he’d be home later than expected, because he figured the man would want to know. He was weirdly protective like that. 

* * *

The weed hadn’t helped, and Peter had no idea why. His headache was stronger than ever now and he figured it was a miracle that he could even walk straight. Hopefully Tony would let him lounge in his office for a bit once he saw the completed work Peter was bringing to him— 

“Ah-ah! Parker, you come with me.” Loki whisked past him, snapping his fingers impatiently. 

Peter frowned. “What? Why? I’m about to drop these off to Tony—”

“No, you’re not. What you  _ are  _ about to do is come with me so you can pee in a cup.”

Peter blanched. “I’m sorry?” It wasn’t time for a test yet, was it?

Loki stared at him like he was incompetent. “Drug test,” he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow that clearly said,  _ are you hiding something? You are, aren’t you? Ohhh, I’ve got your balls in my fist now, Mr. Parker. _

Shit. Shitshitshit. What should he do? 

Find Tony. Tony would help. Tony would kill him once Peter confessed, but he’d still help just so he could be the one to kill Peter. 

“Um. Okay. Can this wait? Because Tony’s gonna—”

“No.”

“O-kay.” 

Peter dutifully followed Loki to the medical centre, heart hammering so hard in his chest that he was convinced it was about to burst out. He was screwed. He knew what the test results would be, which meant he should enjoy the rest of his time at the firm as much as he could. He just hoped he would be given the chance to kiss everything goodbye before having to go tell Grammy how much of a pathetic failure her grandson was. 

“Whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

Peter stumbled back when a hand snagged his shoulder and yanked him back so hard that he dropped a few papers. He snatched them back up and looked up with a scowl, then— “Tony!” Ohmygod, he could  _ kiss  _ this stupid fucking man right now. 

It must’ve shown on his face, because Tony looked a little weirded out. Still, he brushed past it, pointing to the files in Peter’s arms. “Didn’t I say I wanted those on my desk at nine? You’re late.”

“I know, but—”

“He’s going for his drug test,” Loki chimed in, looking bored. “So if you wouldn’t mind letting me steal him for half a second—”

“Um, Tony, don’t you need me to proof the contract for the Price sisters again?” Peter interrupted, trying to subtly widen his eyes. 

Tony made a face. “What? Kid, are you feeling alright? You know that we finished—” He stopped, seeing the look on Peter’s face, then smoothly switched tactics. “Oh, no, you’re right. The additional zero on page twenty-seven, the one you caught a few days ago. We need to go over that.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, that.” He couldn’t keep the relief out of his tone. 

Loki frowned, clearly sensing something fishy. “Okay, well, sorry to break the news to you, Tony, but you’re going to have to wait a bit for your little golden boy to fix your mistake because it’s—”

“Pee in a cup time. I know.” Tony rolled his eyes, then clamped a hand on the scruff of Peter’s neck, which nearly made him topple over as a rush of submission hit him. “I’ll send him down after.”

“Pepper needs—”

“What Pepper needs is the Price sisters’ contract to be revised and ready to be signed in half an hour, so I’m afraid you’ll have to give us a little leeway.”

“But Pepper—”

“I’m sure Pepper will understand.” Tony flashed him a dazzling smile. 

Loki narrowed his eyes, looking royally pissed off. Everyone knew that Loki had a major thing for his authority being undermined, which Tony clearly knew as well, judging by the way the corners of his lips tucked in like how they did when he was trying to hold in a laugh. 

“Fine,” Loki gritted out eventually. “But your little wife won’t have your back next time. Oh, my bad—I mean ex-wife.” With that, he spun on his heel and stormed off. 

Peter gaped, because  _ what? _ and Tony stood frighteningly still for a few moments before tightening his grip on the back of Peter’s neck. “Come with me,” he growled. 

Peter stumbled along as Tony began to haul him to the office. He sensed the anger coming off of the man in huge waves, and somehow he had a feeling that he’d just escaped the clutches of a black bear only to wander into a grizzly bear’s den. 

“Tony, I can explain—”

“Quiet.”

“But—”

Tony let his door fall shut. Then, he whirled around, gripped Peter’s chin with his fingers, and demanded, “Look me in the eyes right now and tell me you wouldn’t have failed that drug test.” 

Peter swallowed. 

Tony held eye contact for a few more moments before finally letting go of his chin. Looking both pissed and exasperated, he leaned back on his desk and snapped his fingers. “Explain everything. You have one minute. Go.” 

Peter spilled everything, from how he met up with Sam after his drinks and their little weed party to Loki’s ill-timed demand, though he left out the details about his impending drop. When he was done, he hung his head, feeling more ashamed than he’d ever been before. 

Tony was silent and Peter didn’t dare look up. “So what you’re telling me,” the man said slowly, “is that you knew what you were doing was wrong and you still chose to do it anyways.”

“Yes si—yes.” Peter flushed at the slip, praying that Tony hadn’t noticed it. He couldn’t help it; his instincts were going haywire at Tony’s tone. “‘m sorry.”

“You should be fired.”

Peter flinched. “Please don’t,” he whispered. He sounded  _ pitiful.  _ “I… I need the money. For Grammy. Please.”

Tony heaved an agitated sigh. “I’m not firing you.” He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a few seconds before re-opening them. “Alright, look. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna get your shit together, kid. I’m not going to cover for you again. You mess up like that and next time, you’re on your own and you deal with the consequences.”

Peter wondered if he really meant that, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“You’re going to go down to your little cubicle, finish up today’s work, then head home at our usual time. I’m staying late tonight, so I’ll take a cab home.”

“Do you need help with what you’re working on?” Peter asked tentatively, feeling like he was walking on eggshells.

Tony shook his head. “No. Get dinner for yourself or cook, I don’t care; I won’t be home in time for that either. Then shower and sleep. If you can’t sleep, you’re free to work on any of the cases I left out on the kitchen countertop this morning, but you need to try and sleep by at least one. Oh, and you’re no longer going to contact Sam. He’s a bad influence and he’ll land you in trouble.”

Peter blanched. “What?” He was fine with all the other things Tony had listed; they actually fed very nicely into his needs as sub because it meant  _ structure, _ but… no Sam? “You can’t do that.”

Tony’s jaw flexed. “I can if it’s going to cost me my associate.”

“Tony, no. I’m not going to do that, okay? I know I fucked up, but Sam’s my friend, and he’s not as bad as you think he is.” Peter agitatedly ran a hand through his hair. “I won’t let this happen again, I swear. But you don’t get to choose who I can and can’t be friends with. That’s… unhealthy.”

Tony sucked the inside of his cheek, levelling a look at Peter, then gave a curt nod. “Fine. But this doesn’t happen again.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now get out of here. You have work to do.”

Peter deflated at the dismissive tone, but he didn’t protest. His hands were still clammy from nerves and his drop, and his head was still pounding away. He had to take a five minute breather in his chair before reaching towards his keyboard.

By some miracle, he managed to complete all of his tasks for the day and left the office at five. He found their regular driver waiting for them and quietly got in. The car ride was far too quiet without Tony next to him, and Peter found himself trying to inch closer to Tony’s seat as they drove. He could still smell a faint whiff of Tony’s flowery Gucci cologne. It soothed him.

Once inside his suite, he changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, hanging up his suit neatly in the closet. His head still hurt, but Peter knew from experience that painkillers wouldn’t help. Shit. What was he gonna do? He had no idea when Tony would come home. What if he went to the club and Tony came home during that time? He would immediately know something was up. 

Peter paced, practically ripping at his hair with his hands. Shitshitshit. Okay. He would be fine if he distracted himself. He made a beeline for the kitchen countertop and tore into the cases. 

Time passed.

He had no idea how late it was when he opened his eyes, but the first thing he processed was the wave of nausea that hit him like a truck. He groaned, clapping his hands over his mouth, and stumbled to Tony’s bathroom. He retched into the toilet, then grimaced and flushed it. He wiped his mouth and dragged himself back out. He needed to change his clothes; they were damp with sweat from head to toe. He’d never experienced such a bad drop before. How long had he slept for? 

He moved sluggishly towards the kitchen and opened the fridge, scanning its contents slowly. He’d forgotten to eat in his haste to distract himself, but he didn’t want to risk cooking when he was in such a state. Just water, then. He grabbed a bottle, hissing at the cold, and closed the fridge before leaning against it. He fumbled with the cap of the plastic water bottle, hands trembling as he tried to twist it open. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t hear the door open. 

“Kid?”

Peter jumped at the voice that rang out, echoing almost eerily in the empty living room. He shivered, cold sweat dripping down his neck and back. “Yeah?” His voice cracked and he coughed. For a second, his vision blurred and he let out a deep, guttural groan, falling back.

He expected to hit the floor and was surprised when he felt hands catching him, supporting him under his arms, and he let out a small noise of discomfort when he was picked up entirely. Before he knew it, he was on the couch, the water bottle forgotten on the floor, rolling sadly to a corner of the kitchen. 

Peter opened his eyes blearily and tried to make out what he was seeing, but the light felt too bright and squeezed his eyes back shut. 

“Hey, you’re okay.”

Peter inhaled sharply, because fuck, this was not good. “Tony?” he croaked.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?” Tony sounded aghast, and Peter flinched away from his harsh tone. 

There was a part of him that screamed at him to get his shit together because he was supposed to be a fucking  _ Dom  _ in front of the older man, but his mind was murky. All he could think about was how pathetic and miserable he felt. Tony was probably disgusted with him; he was drenched in sweat, trembling, and he definitely didn’t smell like flowers. He feebly tried to muster up an apology.

“Did you—you didn’t smoke; you don’t smell like…” Tony suddenly inhaled sharply, a flash of realization crossing his face. The Dom was frozen for a few seconds and Peter inwardly screamed at the astounded expression on Tony’s face. 

Oh, god. He was  _ so  _ fired. He could kiss his job goodbye, and he’d have to go back to his old life of accomplishing nothing every single day. He made a small, pitiful sound that sounded almost like a whimper, and it seemed to jerk Tony into motion.

Tony straightened, and Peter was convinced that he was going to leave the condo angrily, but to his shock, the man scooped him up into his arms bridal style. Peter would’ve let out a squeal of surprise if he didn’t feel like someone had dumped a bucket of sand into his mouth. 

Before he could process what was happening, he found himself in his bed. Immediately, he drew his knees up to his body and curled into a fetal position. He felt safer this way, warmer, too. He heard footsteps growing further away from him and he dejectedly accepted the fact that Tony was leaving now. He obviously didn’t want to deal with Peter when he was in this state. Who would? Hopefully the man was feeling kind enough to let him sleep one last night in his suite before kicking him out. 

“Kid, get up.”

Peter jerked violently, and he flailed, trying to get away.

“Whoa, whoa! Alright, here, look. I’m all the way over here, I can’t touch you, alright? You’re safe, I promise.”

Peter panted heavily and squinted in the light to see Tony leaning against the wall with a cup of water in his hand. Peter closed his eyes again, until he finally whispered brokenly, “Light.”

Tony sounded confused at first, saying, “What about it?” until he seemed to understand. Peter was relieved to hear the light switch flick off, and he peeked his eyes open into a slit. When he found the lights visibly dimmed, he opened them fully. 

“Can I come closer to you now, pal? You can nod or shake your head, I know your throat must feel terrible.”

Peter gave a small, barely noticeable nod, and Tony offered him a smile as a reward. He watched as Tony slowly drew closer until he was able to sit on the bed. “I just want to get some water in you, alright?” Tony said kindly, holding the cup towards him. “You’re dehydrated.”

Peter stared at the cup for a few moments before he tried to sit up, and succeeded with Tony’s help. He reached out shakily, but Tony made a small noise, almost disapproving, and gently pushed Peter’s hand away to hold the cup to his lips. “Drink.”

Peter obeyed the command without a second thought, thirstily gulping the liquid down. He stared forlornly at the now empty cup until Tony set it down and gently asked, “Do you want me to bring you more?”

Peter nodded meekly. 

Tony gave a nod and said, “It’ll only be a moment.” 

Peter drank until his stomach began to churn. He turned his head, feeling too exhausted to even say anything. 

Tony set the cup down on the nightstand before he said, “You need to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Peter rasped. 

Tony was silent for a few seconds, then: “How about I sit next to you and you try to sleep, hm? How’s that?”

Peter mutely gave a small nod. 

“Scooch over.”

Peter shuffled over to give Tony more room and watched as the Dom got comfortable, propping a pillow up and leaning back on it. He held out his arm welcomingly.

Peter didn’t even hesitate, snuggling right into Tony’s body so that he was pressed tightly against him. He shivered when Tony placed an arm around him, gently rubbing his back. He found himself relaxing into the touch, pushing into it, even, and practically moaned when the hand moved up to card through his hair.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Tony murmured. “You’re going to be alright, I promise.”

_ Yes, sir. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please leave me a comment if you enjoyed; they'll help a lot with my motivation!
> 
> feel free to visit my [tumblr](https://snowstark.tumblr.com)
> 
> **Next Chapter: Tony offers Peter a deal.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re my associate. That makes you my responsibility. I’m responsible for both your physical and emotional well-being, and since I know your little secret now, I’m required by my morals to take care of that part of you too. I stop you from dropping as your Dom, you continue to work for me. Simple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! accidentally posted this chapter to my other fic, whoops. deleted and re-uploading for the right fic now LOL (how did i even do that???)
> 
> good news: you get to read this chapter! bad news: it's the last pre-written chapter i have, which means i have severely fallen behind. potentially good news: it's almost reading week.''
> 
> special thanks to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for the amazing work you do, as always! <3

Peter woke up not from his sore throat, or his headache, but because of the hand that was gently carding through his sweaty hair. 

He reacted on instinct. 

With a gasp, he shot up and nearly toppled out of the bed, heart lurching when he barely managed to catch himself. 

“Jesus!” Tony’s voice made him jump a second time. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know you were awake.”

Peter shook his head. “I wasn’t,” he croaked, sounding and feeling like someone had tied his vocal cords into a knot and shoved it up his ass. He shot Tony a grateful glance when the man passed over a glass of water to him. He took a few moments to drink, and then continued. “I wasn’t awake. You just startled me, ‘m sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I should’ve known that you would wake up.” Tony sniffed a small smile. “I bet it’s been a while since you last had someone next to you in bed, huh?”

Peter started. His brain shut down on him for a good five seconds before booting back up. “What?” He looked around, then at Tony, then at the bed, then back at Tony. Shit. “Oh. Um.”

“It’s fine.” Tony was beginning to look equally as uncomfortable as Peter, and rightfully so, because _what the hell was happening?_ “How are you feeling? You had a pretty rough night, and there are always the aftereffects of subdrop too. I mean, I managed to get you back up a bit, but, you know.” He shrugged. 

Peter’s mouth went dry again, but he didn’t move. Oh no. Ohhhh, no. He was so screwed. “I didn’t… that wasn’t…”

“Kid.” Tony’s eyes were full of what looked like sympathy, which confused Peter even more, because he couldn’t comprehend why the man wasn’t drop-kicking him into another dimension. “Don’t lie, okay? We both know it was a subdrop.”

“That was Domdrop.”

Tony let out a bark of laughter, but it held no humour. “Yeah, and I’m a junior associate at the firm. I know subdrop when I see it, Peter. Please don’t disrespect my capacity as a Dom like that.”

“I don’t…” Peter’s voice quivered, and oh no, here came the waterworks. He really fucking hated how sensitive a drop made him. “I just—I don’t understand why—” He broke off with a sniffle.

Tony exhaled slowly, looking both slightly panicked and concerned at his tears. “Why am I not firing you? Is that what you’re asking?”

Silence. 

“I probably should. I mean, that’s the right thing to do here, isn’t it? Rhetorical question.” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

It was the first time Peter had heard Tony swear, and that alerted him as to how serious this entire situation was. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I think—maybe I can see if my old place is still there or something—”

“Hush.”

Silence 2.0.

“Okay, look. You just woke up. You need to wash up; go take a shower, brush your teeth, do whatever you need to do. What _I_ need is a cup—no, three cups—of coffee, which I’m going to go do. Come outside whenever you’re ready.” And then Tony left. 

Peter sat on the bed for a few more moments, feeling more lost than he’d ever been, then slowly got up. His body still ached, but it wasn’t the bone-deep pain he’d felt last night. Tony really _had_ helped him, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Grateful, sure. Anxious? That too.

He hopped in the shower after brushing his teeth, figuring that he should take his time in the deluxe bathroom one last time. He was gonna miss the twelve different knobs that controlled water heating _and_ pressure. 

This was ridiculous. Tony was just prolonging his pain. 

Peter just wanted him to get it over with. 

Being let go was practically a guarantee, wasn’t it? He was pretty sure that the man wouldn’t even want to see his face considering Peter had been lying to his face for like, five centuries now. He wasn’t sure how he’d hold up when Tony fired him. He would probably cry, and that would make him feel even more pathetic. 

He stepped out of the bathroom, mind made up. He was going to leave the condo before Tony could see him, catch a cab, and try to find a couch to crash on for the night. He wouldn’t show up to work anymore, and Tony would be glad that he’d taken matters into his own hands. It was a win-win situation (except it wasn’t). 

Peter got dressed, pulling on a grey crewneck, and felt a flash of relief when he didn’t see Tony anywhere. He was probably drinking his fifth mug in his office by now. 

He was in the middle of tying his shoelaces in the corridor that led to the door when he heard Tony’s voice behind him, stopping him mid-action. 

“What are you doing?”

Peter closed his eyes, mouthed, “Fuck,” then turned around slowly. “I’m, um.” He stared.

Tony stared back, completely expressionless, then sighed. “Get those shoes off and sit down at the table, Pete. I just finished making breakfast.”

Pete? That was new. 

Peter mutely slipped his shoes back off and plodded back into the condo, somehow feeling a bit sheepish. He quietly let Tony place his plate of waffles and fruit in front of him, then watched as he sat down across from him in his usual spot, like it was just another regular day when they both _knew_ it wasn’t. 

“Whipped cream?” Tony offered. 

Peter took it, sprayed a sad amount onto his waffle, then passed it back to Tony. His last breakfast with Tony. He wanted to enjoy it, but he couldn’t. He felt sick knowing that he’d been exposed. 

Tony kept eyeing him in between sipping his coffee and devouring his second waffle. His expression gave nothing away, and that only made Peter sweat more. 

When Tony took his plate once they finished eating, Peter couldn’t take it anymore. “Tony, can we please just—”

Tony pressed a finger to his lip to silence him like he _always fucking did,_ and Peter _exploded._

“Just say it already!” he shouted, then blinked rapidly when he felt his eyes beginning to sting with unshed tears. _“Please._ Look… just make it quick and painless.”

Tony stared at him, then set down the empty mug in his hand. “Kid, you make it sound like I’m about to murder you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you were.”

Tony pulled a face. “No thanks. Too messy. Clean up’s not worth it.” He stared like he was waiting for Peter to laugh, then sighed when he got nothing in return. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” 

“Alright, okay. You want to talk. Let’s talk.” Tony tipped his head towards the couch and Peter followed him over. “Sit.”

Peter obeyed without a moment of hesitation, wringing his hands in his lap.

Tony chose to stand in front of him, running his thumb over his bottom lip repeatedly as he stared at Peter for an uncomfortably long time like he was a math problem that couldn’t be solved. Finally, he sighed and sat down, and Peter closed his eyes, accepting his destiny to be a loser for the rest of his life.

“I’m not going to fire you.”

Peter’s eyes flew open. _“What?”_

“You’re still my associate.” 

Peter stared, lips parted in shock, then scoffed a humourless laugh. “Hilarious, Tony, thank you for trying to cheer me up before you kick me out. Kudos to you. Great performance. For once in your life, you’re actually showing _compassion._ I didn’t even know you could do that.” 

Silence. 

“Sorry.” Peter looked down, suddenly regretting the snark. It seemed rather unnecessary now. 

“I’m serious.” 

Peter stared, heart beginning to beat faster. “Why?”

“Because you need the job, and I need your mind. It’s a win-win. Besides, I’ve already kept quiet about your little Harvard graduate lie. What’s another one on top of that?” Tony twiddled his thumbs together. “Sometimes you need to lie to get what you want. I know that’s what you did. Isn’t it? And it’s a good thing you did, because now you’re not letting that genius brain of yours rot from all the weed.”

“But I lied to you.”

“I know.”

“For like, forever.”

“Yup.” Tony popped the ‘p.’

“I don’t deserve to be your associate.”

“Hm. Debatable.” Tony raised a hand when Peter made to keep going. “Look, I’m not done speaking yet, okay? I said you’re not fired, and I meant it.”

“Okay.” Tony better not be playing around, because Peter was beginning to believe him. 

“But dropping like this… kid, that’s just _unhealthy.”_ Tony sounded disapproving now, grinding his teeth for a few moments before continuing.“I want you to continue to work for me. You’re definitely better than the other Harvard douchebags.”

“Thanks.”

“But you can’t work like… this.” Tony gestured to him.

Peter clenched his jaw. “I can’t change what I am,” he practically spit out. 

“I’m not asking you to. You’re fine the way you are. Beautiful, even.” Tony’s tone was gentle. “What I meant was, you can’t continue to work in an environment where you’re constantly exposed to high levels of dominance. It’ll drive you crazy—no, it already _did._ You _dropped._ And judging by the fact that you weren’t expecting it, I’m going to take an educated guess, which is just another way to say a _correct_ guess, and say that you didn’t think you’d drop yet because you usually wouldn’t have around this time. But it’s different now because of the place you spend nearly twelve hours in every day.”

“This sounds like you’re going to fire me.”

“Jesus, kid. I said I’m not going to; get that through your thick skull. We just need to figure out what to do now.” Tony sucked the inside of his cheek, staring at Peter again. Then— “I have a proposal to make.”

“Um. Okay?”

“You need a Dom.”

“No.”

“Pete—”

“No. I’m not going to get some random Dom for myself just so I can keep working. I can’t do it, Tony.” Peter felt sick. 

Tony rubbed his forehead, looking like he was gaining a splitting headache. “I didn’t mean a _random_ Dom.”

“A Dom that you recommend to me is still random.”

“I meant _me.”_

Peter’s jaw dropped _again._ “What?”

Tony looked simultaneously uncomfortable and amused. “You’re my associate. That makes you my responsibility. I’m responsible for both your physical and emotional well-being, and since I know your little secret now, I’m required by my morals to take care of that part of you too. I stop you from dropping as your Dom, you continue to work for me. Simple.”

It was definitely not simple.

“If you say no, then… we’ll figure something else out. But this is… I recommend this.” 

“I didn’t know you had morals.”

_“Peter.”_

In any other situation, Peter would’ve gloated over how Tony was stumbling over his words because that never, _ever_ happened. “Okay, fuck, fine, I’m serious now. And I guess… I’m… I’m not sure.”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to him. “I know it’s weird.”

“No, it’s not _weird._ It’s just…” Peter paused, trying to search for the right word. “I guess I’m just a bit worried that it might cross a few boundaries. If that makes sense.”

Tony nodded. “That does make sense. But we’d keep our personal and professional lives separate. They wouldn’t cross into each other, except in extenuating circumstances.”

“What do you mean?” Peter eyed him suspiciously. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I _mean,_ if I see that you’re overworking yourself by pulling all-nighters at the office and skipping meals, I’m going to handle it as your Dom because that’s not acceptable behaviour. Or if you break a particularly important rule. Extenuating circumstances.”

“I don’t want you to coddle me at work.”

Tony snorted. “That won’t be a problem. I’m going to treat you exactly the same as I did before, pal. Don’t think I’ll be going soft on you.”

Peter huffed. “Okay, good.” He crossed his arms, appraising the Dom in front of him for a few more seconds before speaking. “Would it be, um, you know. Sexual?”

“Only if you wanted it to be. Hold on, I think we should be writing this down if we’re doing this. We need a contract.”

Peter hesitated. Putting it all in writing before signing a contract would really finalize this. Was this what he wanted? That was a dumb question. It was definitely what he wanted. He wanted to keep his job. He wanted to keep being a lawyer and make Grammy proud. But most of all? He’d been wanting _Tony_ for forever now. He wanted to submit to him, wanted to be praised and taken care of, knowing that he was safe in Tony’s arms. So yeah, he wanted this. 

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Tony understood just from the look on his face. He got to his feet and went over to pull out a legal pad and a pen before returning. “Keep in mind that even when we sign the papers, we’ll be able to come back and amend the contract. You’ll always have that freedom.”

“Even if I choose to terminate the contract?” Peter didn’t know why he asked that, but he did.

Tony didn’t bat an eye. “If that’s what you wish, then yes.”

“Okay.” Peter swallowed hard, then nodded, hardening his resolve. “Okay. I want to do this.”

“Lovely.” Tony uncapped his pen. “So. Do you want this to be sexual?”

“I… I don’t think I’d mind.”

“Yes or no. I need clear answers.”

Peter flushed. “Yes.”

Tony just gave a nod, not showing any other reaction to Peter’s answer. That freaked him out a little because he wasn’t sure if Tony reciprocated the feelings he had, but he supposed Tony wouldn’t be agreeing to it if he didn’t feel the same way. He hoped. 

“I’ll send you a list where you can fill out your limits and things you want to try. Sounds good?”

Peter nodded mutely, then blinked when Tony just stared at him. Oh. _Oh._ “Um. Yes. Sir?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” Tony said, looking amused. “But you don’t have to start right now if you don’t want to. We’re still in the negotiation stage.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m just… I know I’m _really fucking awkward,_ just. This is new.” Peter looked down, feeling small. “I guess I never thought I’d be entering a contracted relationship anytime soon.”

“Well, neither did I. But hey, this is gonna benefit both of us, alright?” Tony gave him a searching look.

“I don’t see how it would benefit you though.” Peter grimaced at the sulkiness in his tone, but pushed forward after a deep breath. “I get that this would help me stay in control and let me get what I need, but I don’t want you to do this out of pity or something. Like, what if you start to hate it? Or think of me as a chore?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, that wouldn’t happen, because believe it or not, pal, I offered this to you because I _wanted_ to. You didn’t hold me at gunpoint, did you? No, I didn’t think so. Second, it _would_ benefit me. Like I said, I need my associate in tip-top shape to make me look good, not to mention the fact that Doms also have needs, just like you subs.”

Peter flinched. It felt strange hearing Tony group him with subs after holding up a pretense for so long. He still felt majorly exposed and unbalanced, didn’t know how he was supposed to act now. 

“Relationships don’t work unless both parties put in their full effort, Peter.” Tony sounded gentle now. “I promise you that I will _always_ give you my all. You’re the farthest thing from a chore to me.”

Peter melted, and embarrassingly enough, felt the back of his eyes begin to sting. Blinking rapidly, he whispered, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Tony smiled. His eyes flitted to Peter’s lips for a split second before moving back up to hold eye contact for a few seconds. “We can work out most of the technicalities while experimenting, so no need to go into extreme detail right now—unless you want to. No? Okay, that’s fine. I use the traffic light system for safewords. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll use that, then.” Tony jotted it down. “Let’s discuss boundaries.”

Peter swallowed, then said as firmly as he could, “I meant it when I said I don’t want you to pull some Dom shit on me at work. It’ll mess with me.”

“I understand. Are you comfortable with the exceptions I laid out earlier? Cases in which I’m allowed to step in if you’re endangering yourself or breaking a rule?”

Peter sucked the inside of his cheek thoughtfully for a few moments. “Only if there are no witnesses nearby.”

“Of course. I would never,” Tony assured. “Any emotions we have at home, we leave at home. Work stays professional.”

“Sounds good.”

“If you want to discuss anything in regard to our personal relationship, we talk about it at home, unless you really _need_ to in that exact moment—in which case, you’ll safeword. If you can’t safeword verbally, you can hold up three fingers and scratch your nose with the other hand.”

Peter nodded. “Will you do the same?”

“Yes. And kid—I meant it when I said no relationship emotions at work. Sometimes you might not be happy with something I want you to do, as your Dom, or you might feel unsettled if I treat you like any other associate in the building. I understand that it might be hard. Do your best to not let those feelings translate over, okay?”

“I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were.” Tony flashed him a look. “You’re human. You may feel a lot of emotions once we start and I want to make sure that we’re able to have this discussion now versus at the office.”

“Never thought I’d be getting lectured about _emotions_ by you.”

“Whatever, kid.” Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter caught a flash of amusement there. “Any other questions?”

“I don’t think so. Not right now.”

“If any come up, you can always let me know. Are you ready to discuss rules or do you want a small break to process all of this? I know I’m throwing a lot at you.”

“I can handle it.” 

Tony gave him a fondly exasperated look. “Never said you couldn’t. Alright, rules.”

There weren’t a lot. Tony was definitely a Dom with high expectations, but Peter had already known that based off of how he acted at work. 

The rules were simple: be respectful, honest, and obedient. Peter was expected to take care of himself, which included having three meals a day, following proper hygiene, and letting Tony know if he was struggling with anything. His safewords were yellow and red, and no matter where they were or what they were doing, he was expected to safeword if he needed to. 

It was the last rule that made him blush.

“You’ve indicated that you’re okay with incorporating sexual aspects into this relationship,” Tony said lightly. “So, your last rule is that you’re no longer allowed to get off without permission. You can touch if you want to—unless I specifically say otherwise—but you’re not allowed to come. Are you comfortable with that?”

Peter’s mind was going haywire. It probably had to do with the fact that his instincts were latching on to the sheer amount of dominance that Tony was emitting. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “Yes.” He was more than comfortable with that. 

“Great.” Tony flashed him a smile. “We start tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Peter eyed the man in front of him with some apprehension, then said softly, “If… if I realize that I can’t do this—”

“Then we stop,” Tony agreed firmly, clearly knowing what Peter was about to say. “And it won’t have any consequences on your job. What Pepper doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Thank you.” Peter actually felt his eyes brim with unshed tears of gratefulness, but he didn’t want to cry in front of his boss—who also happened to be his Dom now, what the fuck—so he just cleared his throat and blinked them away. “What… what now?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s the weekend. Do whatever you want. I need to head out to meet a client.”

“Do you ever stop working?” Peter blurted out, then froze, wondering if that was technically disrespectful. 

Tony brushed past it. “Nope. How else do you think I became the best in the city?”

“Your ego clearly helps,” Peter muttered, then froze again. Oh, _god,_ this was going to be hard, wasn’t it?

Tony just snorted a laugh, then ruffled his hair. “Anything else you want to discuss? And stop looking so scared, kid. I know you can’t help but run your mouth. We’ll just have to work on it.”

“Nothing else.”

“Good. I have to go get ready, then.”

Peter sat there quietly, clearly brain-dead, until Tony got dressed and came back into the living room.

Maybe it was the look on his face that made Tony pause, but the man stared at him for a few more moments before asking, “You okay?”

Peter nodded, staring at nothing in particular, then finally processed everything that had just happened. Like the absolute maniac he was, he began to laugh. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tony was starting to look a little freaked out. 

“You—” Peter broke off to cough in between his splutters, then gasped, “You care about me!”

Tony made a face. “I absolutely do not,” he huffed. “I care about me and my work. You just happen to be a package deal. I need your brain at work to make me look good.”

“Now you’re saying that I’m smarter than you.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are. _And_ you care about me.” Peter was having way too much fun now. It was probably the drop he was slowly recovering from, and the shock of the chaos that had occurred in the span of twenty-four hours. “That doesn’t sound very best-in-the-city to me.”

“That’s enough.”

Peter cackled, then pouted. “You’re really not gonna admit it?”

“Nope. Bad puppy.”

Peter’s pout grew. When he still got nothing, he got to his feet and made a show of sadly plodding over to the door that led to his suite, dragging his feet. His hand was on the door handle when—

“Pete?”

Peter turned.

“I do care about you.”

Peter stared, then pulled out his phone from his pocket. “Okay, could you just repeat that for me again while I hit the record button—”

“Shut up.”

Peter laughed. He turned back around and slipped into his suite. He waited until the door closed firmly behind him, then let out a small, “Holy shit,” before running into his room and leaping onto his bed. Lying spread-eagled, he stared at the ceiling, still in disbelief over what had just happened. 

“Tony Stark is my Dom,” he whispered to himself, abso-fucking-lutely giddy. “Tony’s my Dom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and commenting! please let me know what you thought :) 
> 
> i'm at a bit of a weird place for this fic right now, so i'm feeling stuck, but i'll do my best to finish up the next chapter for next week!
> 
> **Next Chapter: Tony and Peter explore the new developments to their relationship. ******
> 
> also, feel free to check out a new fic written by me and @authoressofdarkness [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266959/chapters/71869713#main) it's a mafia d/s tony/peter au :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter looked up at Tony, licking his lips. The smug grin on the Dom’s face told him that his guess was very much correct, so he didn’t feel too reluctant in asking shyly, “Daddy, can I—um, can I please get myself off on your leg?”
> 
> He barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes when Tony hummed, like he was pretending to consider it when they both _knew _this was exactly what he’d wanted. “I suppose so, since you used your manners.”__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i am alive! after suffering a massive burnout and throwing myself a pity party, i told myself to shut the fuck up and get this chapter done. i'm probably moving updates to approximately every 2 weeks until i'm in a better state in terms of mental health and catching up on this fic so that i have chapters written in advance. 
> 
> just a note that this chapter is gonna get pretty,,, steamy. i hope you all enjoy because lately i have been insecure as fuck about my smut lmao
> 
> as always, thank you to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for looking over this chapter! i appreciate you <3

Their first day in the office as a contracted Dom and sub was awkward, to say the least.

Peter, feeling oddly paranoid that the word ‘SUB’ was plastered in big bold letters on his forehead, insisted on taking a cab to work instead of their usual. Tony had frowned, but allowed it. Peter supposed even he had to admit that arriving in the same car would appear too suspicious—there were already enough rumours amongst the associates about Tony Stark’s newest ‘pet’ (AKA Peter). 

He sweated through his suit the entire ride to work, and couldn’t help but feel relieved when he didn’t see Tony pacing in front of the building like an overprotective Dom, which was what he’d half-expected to see. 

Peter went to his cubicle, sat down, and logged in. He pointedly ignored the mild jabs that Flash threw at him, gritting his teeth. He was  _ not  _ about to get into a fight with that  _ tool  _ on his first day at work as Tony’s sub. He was going to make his Dom proud. His spine tingled happily at the thought, hissing  _ yessssproudDomproudDom, _ and he had to pinch his thigh to clear his head. 

He was surprised when he didn’t get a call from Tony by noon, and it was clear that the other associates were beginning to notice too. Tony would’ve hauled him out of his cubicle now and dragged him to god only knew where. Peter had a feeling that the others were feeling rather happy with this new development, and he couldn’t even blame them. He’d be bitter too if he was stuck at the fax machine all day. 

Flash, of course, was the first to take advantage of this. “What’s wrong, Petey-pie?” he called, smirking. “Don’t look so sad. Maybe he’s just getting tired of you. Probably found a real sub instead of your twink ass.”

Peter kept his gaze focused on his screen. _ I  _ am  _ a real sub, idiot.  _

“Don’t take it personally. Everyone knows that Mr. Stark doesn’t do commitment.”

Was that why he wasn’t married to Pepper anymore? Peter rummaged through his drawer to pluck out a sticky note.

When he reached out to pick up his pen, the phone rang and he jumped before picking it up, giving Flash a mildly triumphant look.

It clearly enraged the other associate, because he snapped, “You didn’t please  _ Daddy _ enough last night? Is that why he’s late to take you home?”

Unfortunately for him, he’d spoken a little too loudly, because Tony sounded aghast as he said, “Who the hell is that?”

“No one,” Peter responded immediately, glaring at Flash, who went a bit red once he connected the dots. “Do you need something?” He nearly attached the word ‘Sir’ at the end of his question and was relieved when he stopped himself in time, because  _ fuck,  _ the shitstorm that would’ve brought up amongst the other associates. He hadn’t known that all Harvard graduates were such nosy pieces of shit before joining the bullpen. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” Tony sounded unimpressed, and it made Peter wince.

“Look, later, okay?” He grimaced again at how  _ disrespectful  _ his tone was, but he pushed through.  _ Keep up the act.  _ He could make up for it later, when they were alone. “What do you need?”

“What I need is for you to be polite.” Tony sounded equally as appalled as Peter was.

“I… you know I can’t do anything about it right now.” Now he was confused. He’d thought the whole point of this was to make sure that Peter could keep up his fake Dom act, not try and put him in his place when he couldn’t afford to.

A pause, then— “No, you’re right. You’re doing good, kid. Are you done with your work? I need you to find a witness.”

“Done,” Peter responded, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, good. Come pick up the folder from my office.”

The line went dead, and Peter hung up before getting up from his seat. He grabbed a few folders that he was also done early, figuring Tony would be pleased with that, and swept past Flash, who had a massive scowl on his face.

He was right, Tony  _ was  _ pleased. In fact, when Peter handed him the stack, he flashed him a smile and said, “Good boy. Maybe you  _ will  _ earn yourself a reward by the end of today.” 

Peter flushed, ignoring the way his body grew all warm and fuzzy, and glanced out of the office, praying that no one had been passing by.

Tony rolled his eyes without any actual heat behind it. “Relax, darling. No one heard.”

“Except me,” Natasha chirped from the intercom. 

Peter flushed again at that and turned to glare at her through the glass doors, and she smiled sweetly back. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Stop listening to my private conversations, Nat.” 

“Not private if your intercom is always on.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “She has a point.” 

Tony jabbed the off button pointedly, making her cackle. Peter hid a smile behind a cough. Tony’s eyes flashed at that, and he snatched a blue folder off of his desk and shoved it into Peter’s hands. “Take this, and get out of my office.” 

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Peter blinked, reeling from the sharp contrast in Tony’s tone. 

He tried to hide it and left, ignoring Natasha’s knowing gaze. He didn’t like how curt Tony had been with him at the end, but what he liked even less was that before Tony was his Dom, he wouldn’t have even cared. Which meant he was already letting their personal relationship bleed into their professional one, and that was something they had both blatantly agreed not to do. 

* * *

Having Tony as his Dom wasn’t difficult, but it definitely wasn’t easy.

The circumstances were more different from anything Peter had ever experienced before and at times he felt as though he’d been tossed into the deep end of the pool without a lifejacket. Thankfully, Tony never let him drown, and any time Peter floundered, it was honestly his fault for not telling Tony—not that it would happen often; Tony was  _ extremely  _ disapproving when Peter hid important things from him. 

“Tired?”

Peter blinked awake, not having even realized that he’d been dozing. He set down the yellow highlighter that had been slipping out of his loose grip and turned to face Tony, who was on the couch typing away at his laptop. “Uh, what?”

“Are you tired?” Tony repeated, enunciating the words. 

Peter shook his head. “No. I’m fine.” He scowled at the papers in front of him. He needed to get this done; he’d been oddly distracted at work that day and as a result, had chosen to bring his unfinished work home to get it done. Otherwise he’d be pulling an all-nighter the next day, and according to Tony, his Dom didn’t like when Peter ‘abused his body like that.’

“You were falling asleep.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Peter kept his eyes fixed on the page even when he felt Tony’s gaze on him.

“Leave that for later.”

“I’m almost done.”

“Sweetheart.”

The name made him finally tear his gaze away. 

Tony was eyeing him with a tender look on his face. “You’re working very hard, and it’s good that you are. But you need to take a break as well. C’mere and be good for me.”

That won Peter over. Blushing, he set down his work and shuffled over to the couch and into Tony’s open arms. He snuggled right into the side embrace, enjoying the warmth and comfort. 

“You’ve been overworking yourself lately,” the Dom murmured, clicking a new tab on his laptop.

“No more than usual,” Peter mumbled, closing his eyes when Tony began to gently run a hand through his hair. “You’re just being extra fussy.”

“Well, when I see my sub struggling to stay awake, I’m going to worry.”

“And would you worry if Flash was in my position?”

“He wouldn’t be. He’s not smart enough.” Tony sounded pleased and Peter rolled his eyes. 

“You’re missing the point,” he said without any actual heat behind his words.

“Shhh. Just rest.”

Peter tried, he really did, but he kept shifting around, trying to get his body to relax knowing full well that it wouldn’t. “Sorry,” he whispered, glancing at Tony worriedly. “I’m disturbing you.”

“Not at all. It’s nice to have a lapdog.”

Peter huffed at that, trying not to smile. 

Tony chuckled and pulled Peter in closer. “This okay?”

“‘s perfect.”

“Then why are you moving around so much? Are you uncomfortable? You can lie down if you want.”

Peter hesitated, then shook his head. “I—I dunno. I’ve just been a bit off the whole day.”

“Hm.” Tony sounded thoughtful now, gazing at him with one eyebrow quirked up. He set his laptop down, then said, “Maybe it’s time we did a scene. You think that could help?”

Peter swallowed hard. He glanced at Tony’s lap, trying to figure out what a scene constituted, then dragged his eyes back up to Tony’s amused stare. “Um. I think so. Maybe.”

Tony appraised him, then said, “Let’s give it a try.”

Peter swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You remember your safewords?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Yellow to slow down. Red to stop.”

“Good. How about we start with kneeling? Go on.” Tony let Peter withdraw from him now. The Dom shifted to get more comfortable, crossing his legs and watching as Peter shuffled into position. “You look very pretty like that, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” Peter ducked his head.

“Ah-ah. Head up. Lemme see that gorgeous face. Good boy.” Tony tilted his head to the side, then murmured, “Straighten your back a little more. Perfect. Hold your left wrist with your right hand. Chin up. Good boy. Very good.”

The praise sent a flash of warmth through Peter and he found himself relaxing as time passed. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Look at’chu,” Tony continued to praise, looking like he genuinely meant every word. “You even use your manners.” 

Peter blushed and straightened up even more, craving Tony’s praise, wanting  _ moremoremore.  _ He could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, replaced by a certain kind of adoration for the Dom— _ his _ Dom—in front of him. 

“Come here now. A little closer.”

Peter shuffled forwards on his knees, trying not to break position. He stopped when his front brushed against Tony’s legs and looked up at him quizzically.

Tony chuckled. “You know how I’ve been calling you a puppy since we first met? Yeah, I knew there was something there, behind that Dom mask you had on.” He reached out and cupped Peter’s chin tenderly, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Definitely the lost puppy look. Lean your head here.”

Peter obeyed, content to remain quiet. Pressing his forehead against Tony’s knee, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath that he only just realized he’d been holding in. 

“Good,” Tony murmured, and then there was a hand in his hair, petting and stroking. “Yeah, baby, just relax. There you go. You’re being very good for me.”

Peter pushed into the touch, aching for more, and Tony sniffed a smile from above him.

“You really are touch-starved, huh, kid? That’s alright, that’s not a problem anymore. I’m a hands-on person.”

“I know,” Peter mumbled, and while he might’ve blushed at Tony’s words and the insinuation any other time, he was feeling too relaxed and content to do anything but nuzzle Tony’s leg. 

Tony laughed softly again. “You wanna stay there for a while, sweetheart? You feeling okay?”

“Yes, Sir. Green.” 

“Good boy.”

And they stayed like that for… Peter didn’t even know how long. Time seemed to pass and stay still at the same time. 

He dozed in his position, falling asleep at the comforting feeling of Tony’s hand gently carding through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, and Tony let him. 

* * *

Ironically enough, the first time they had a proper,  _ steamy _ scene was when they were both equally as worked up—Tony from work, and Peter from only god knew what. 

He’d just been feeling impatient and restless the entire day, so much to the point where Tony had been giving him warning looks when he took the sass too far. But he knew that Tony couldn’t do anything when they were in the office, which was maybe why he kept pushing. 

Shit was always easy when there weren’t any consequences.

He only really stopped when the man pulled him aside so that they were standing at the windows, gazing down at the bustling city. 

“Stop that behaviour right now,” Tony growled into his ear. 

“What behaviour?”

_ “That.”  _ Tony raised his eyebrow. “You need to check your attitude, kid, before I take matters into my own hands. And believe me when I say you won’t like it. I have something fun planned for us tonight, and I’d hate to have to put it aside for your misbehaviour.”

Peter deflated. “Sorry.”

“What was that?”

A quick glance behind him out of pure paranoia, then— “Sorry,  _ Sir.” _

“That’s more like it.” Tony bumped his hip against Peter comfortingly. “Now go and bully your colleagues or something. That’s what happens in the bullpen half the time anyways, isn’t it?” He snorted. “And now I’m just imagining all of the possibilities if you runts channelled all of that energy into actual  _ work.” _

“We’re not runts.”

“You are if I say you are.” Tony grinned. “Oh, and also, we’re going suit shopping for you soon.”

Peter frowned. “I have more than enough.”

“Uh, no you don’t. You have the bare minimum, and it’s only acceptable because you’ve been circulating through eight ties. You need more. Though, I suppose it’s a miracle by itself that you’re not wearing any polyester atrocities anymore.” Tony sounded very unimpressed as he eyed his form. “Be good and maybe I’ll even buy you a pair of cashmere pants.” 

Peter laughed. “What?”

“Cashmere,” Tony deadpanned. He pointed to his own pants. “Like these.” He waited, like Peter was supposed to start gushing all over them, but when that didn’t come, he rolled his eyes. “Maybe once you realize how nice cashmere feels on the skin, your attitude will change. Now shoo, get out of here.”

Peter made his way down to his cubicle then. 

The rest of the day was boring, if not torturous. It consisted of paperwork, phone calls, emails, and more paperwork. His vision was blurring by the time he looked up at the clock, and was surprised to find that it was seven, and that most of the associates had left already. He’d gotten way too immersed in his work again. 

What surprised him even more though, was that Tony hadn’t come rushing down to demand that he go home to rest. The fact that he hadn’t done so yet indicated that he was also still in the office, which probably meant that there was an emergency. And that was a little disappointing, considering the Dom had implied there’d be a fun little  _ reward  _ for him tonight—maybe their first  _ real  _ scene—but he tried not to dwell on that. If there was a work emergency, that took priority. 

Maybe he could be helpful. He usually was, even if Tony didn’t want to admit it. With a small huff of laughter at the thought of the Dom’s stubbornness, he gathered up his stuff for the night, clearing his desk, and packed his bag before taking the elevator up to Tony’s office. 

He bumped into Pepper along the way, which made him sweat profusely. She gave him a curious look and said, “I’m surprised you’re still here. Get home soon; we can’t have another associate having a stroke from exhaustion.”

He smiled, thinking she was just teasing, until he did a double-take and hold on,  _ another?  _

Before he had time to dwell on that new bit of information, Tony went storming past him, making him jump. Natasha was nowhere to be seen, which, shit, that meant it was  _ really  _ bad if Tony had sent Natasha home while he was still at work. Meaning, Natasha would have fought to stay with him, but the man had probably threatened to not buy her the Balenciaga bag she’d been eyeing for a while now, and that was the most effective threat—as of right now—that could be used against the red-head. 

Peter hesitantly followed Tony into his office, biting his lip when he wasn’t even acknowledged. Eventually, he said, “Tony? Are you okay?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

Right. Which meant he  _ wasn’t  _ fine. 

Peter hesitated for a few moments, but when Tony didn’t turn to face him, he eventually said  _ fuck it. _ He sidled up to him, though being wary of the Dom’s reactions. Tony’s mood wasn’t ever really predictable, especially not when he was already upset. Tucking his hands into his pocket, he said softly, “I could—maybe I could help you. To feel better, I mean.”

Tony glanced at him, then looked away, mouth set in a firm line. “No. I don’t want to take advantage of you like that.”

“But it wouldn’t be that,” Peter tried. “I’d want to do it. You don’t think I want it? I want to be  _ good _ for you.” He chanced a quick look behind them, feeling mildly paranoid that they’d be overheard. 

Tony rubbed his hand over his face, clearly mulling it over. Then, he nodded. “Okay. Get over here.” He made his way over to his armchair and Peter blinked. 

“Wait. Oh, shit, okay. Like,  _ here?”  _

An unimpressed look. 

Right. Peter exhaled and glanced over his shoulder again. When he looked back, he saw that Tony was smiling and he scowled. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Tony just spread his legs out comfortably and Peter’s mouth began to water. Yes, he was a whore. Whatever. “You just look cute. Don’t worry about anyone seeing us. There’s no one else here, and Nat will wipe the security footage by  _ yesterday. _ Now get over here, puppy. I don’t like being made to wait.” 

Well, Peter knew  _ that  _ for sure. He obeyed, coming closer after one last look at the  _ glass  _ office doors. 

He dropped to his knees, licking his lips, trying not to appear too eager. His gaze was fixed on the crotch of Tony’s suit pants, and for good reason.

Tony chuckled, tugging him closer by his hair before stopping him when he was in between his legs. “Eager, huh?”

Peter smiled shyly up at him.

“Hold on, put this under your knees or you’ll have carpet burns for a decade.” Tony tossed him a pillow, and waited until Peter shoved it underneath himself to say, “Rest your head here, sweetheart.” Tony patted his knee. 

Right. Okay. Definitely not how a typical blowjob started, but maybe it was just foreplay. Peter obeyed. He closed his eyes and felt Tony’s hand begin to card through his hair. 

Peter was nearly convinced that they wouldn’t do anything but this again when Tony’s hand drew into a fist and pulled his head up by his hair. Swallowing, he looked up at Tony.

The Dom looked down at him tenderly, swiping a thumb across his cheek. “Look at you,” he said quietly. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? I’m already more relaxed than before.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Peter tried to argue, but was cut short when Tony pressed a finger to his lips. 

“Shhh.” 

When Peter opened his mouth to let fly another retort, Tony took advantage of that and slid two fingers into his mouth, not far enough to make him gag, but enough so that he knew they were there. 

Tony chuckled at his wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” he teased. “Cat got your tongue? Ah-ah, no biting. I told you to be good, so hush.” 

Peter huffed around his fingers, but began to languidly suck on them. Tony was teasing him, wasn’t he? Well, he could do the same right back at him. 

He pulled off to let saliva pool in his mouth so that he’d be wet and sloppy, then took his fingers back into his mouth. Tony’s eyes darkened immediately, and Peter knew that Tony knew what he was up to. But he didn’t stop him, which told Peter that he was going the right direction with this. He maintained eye contact and continued with his efforts until Tony pulled them out and growled, “Okay, that’s enough.”

Peter felt a flash of triumph seeing the tent in his pants, and he reached forward to undo his suit pants. It seemed he’d be getting his  _ reward _ now. 

He was so caught up in trying to get access to Tony’s dick that he was taken off guard when the man stopped him with a hand on his own. “Sir, what—”

“No more initiating. Let me choose when and how you get off.”

Peter’s mouth went dry at the words, and he nodded vigorously, though he gave Tony’s cock a last little wistful glance. 

Tony noticed, and he laughed, but he didn’t do anything about it. Instead, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. 

Peter stared at him, confused. He was already kneeling, wasn’t he? What exactly did Tony want from him? “I—”

“Shhhh.” Tony slid his foot up until the top part of the shoe was pressing against his semi. Not hard, but not light either. Firm.  _ Insistent.  _

Peter’s breath quickened and his mouth fell open a bit, conflicted between pushing up and pulling back. 

Tony clearly saw the mixture of confusion and arousal painted across his face, because he grinned, shark-like, and murmured, “What’s wrong, hm?”

“N-Nothing.” 

“Pants off.” Tony withdrew his foot, and Peter scrambled to obey. 

He shed his pants, then his boxers, and then shit, he might as well take his shirt off too, huh? He did exactly that, then dropped back onto his knees.

Tony tilted his head, appraising him for a few moments before reaching out to gently brush a hand through his hair. “If we do this,” he said softly, “I won’t go easy. I’ll be mean. I’ll make you beg. So, I need you to tell me that this is something that you want, and that you’re not just doing it for  _ me _ like the sweet boy you are.”

“I want it.” There was no hesitation in Peter’s answer.

“Do you?”

Peter flushed, and he nodded. 

Tony’s grin widened, and he nodded before pulling back. “Oh, honey, look at you. You’re being so good, huh?”

Peter ducked his head. “Yessir.”

“You wanna be good for me today? Hm? You wanna make  _ Daddy  _ happy, show him how good you can be?”

Peter was positively drooling. He gave three quick nods. 

_ Daddy. _

“Well, sweetheart, you know what would make me _ pleased?”  _ Tony leaned forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

Peter shook his head, swallowing hard.

Tony sniffed a smile, then grabbed his chin with his thumb and index finger in a firm grip before pulling him into a wet, hard kiss. Peter made a soft noise at the back of his throat when he felt Tony’s tongue. When they pulled apart, his chest was heaving and his cock was dribbling pre-come. 

“Guess.” Tony grinned, then reached out and wrapped his hand around Peter’s dick in a loose ‘o,’ dragging it up painfully slowly from the base to the head before pulling back.

_ Oh my god.  _ Peter was going to die. He looked down at his cock again, then looked up at Tony, almost pitifully.

Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter saw a flash of amusement flit across his face, which told him that everything was going according to Tony’s plans. “The fuck you want me to do about that?”

The words hit Peter like a truck and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had to clear his throat to try again, feeling his face grow warm. “Please, Daddy. I want… I want to come.”

Tony laughed, as if Peter had asked him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, which he  _ knew  _ wasn’t true. “Why should I let you?”

“I’ve been good,” Peter said, and the desperation in his voice wasn’t faked. “I’ll keep being good, too.”

“You should be good regardless of whether or not you get to come.” Tony raised an eyebrow.

Peter swallowed back the noise of frustration that bubbled up in his throat. “I can show you how good I can be, if you let me,” he tried. “Please.  _ Please, _ I promise.”

Tony hummed, clearly pretending to think, before shamelessly let his gaze travel down Peter’s body from his face down to his cock. “I suppose you can come.”

Peter’s hands moved immediately, but Tony’s next sharp words stopped him. “You can come, but you can’t use your hands.”

Fuck, okay. Peter put his hands behind his back, locking his fingers together to remove all temptation, before hesitating. How exactly was he supposed to do this, anyways? If he tried to fold himself in half to use his mouth on himself, that was  _ not  _ going to be sexy.

Tony must’ve seen the confusion on his face, because he added, “I want you to show me just how needy you are. I want you to prove that you’re a filthy little thing who’d do anything to get to come.” Tony extended his leg again, though that was all he did this time. “I want you to  _ beg.” _

Peter hesitated, still staring up at him in mild confusion. God, why did Tony have to speak in riddles all the time? Why couldn’t he just snap his fingers and say,  _ Kneel, get yourself off, no hands, but you can— _

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

Peter looked up at Tony, licking his lips. The smug grin on the Dom’s face told him that his guess was very much correct, so he didn’t feel too reluctant in asking shyly, “Daddy, can I—um, can I please get myself off on your leg?”

He barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes when Tony hummed, like he was pretending to consider it when they both  _ knew _ this was exactly what he’d wanted. “I suppose so, since you used your manners.”

Peter licked his lips. “Thank you, Daddy.” He carefully shuffled forwards on his knees, kicking the cushion forwards with himself so that he wouldn’t have carpet burns, and began to rut against his leg, slowly, experimentally, until he gradually worked up a steady pace. 

Tony’s pants felt  _ good.  _ They were soft and silky, and provided just the right amount of friction, the right amount of  _ burn  _ for Peter to bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut, basking in the sensation. Suddenly, Tony’s words from earlier rang in his head. 

_ Maybe once you realize how nice cashmere feels on the skin, your attitude will change. _

His eyes flew open and he met Tony’s heavy gaze. Well, he was certainly viewing the fabric in a different light now. “Cashmere,” he breathed before he even realized it, and it made Tony bark out a laugh.

Still chuckling, the Dom snapped his fingers in his face. “Focus. I don’t have all day to sit here and wait for you to get off, do I?”

Peter swallowed and shook his head before leaning forward to press a light kiss to Tony’s kneecap, mouthing at it absentmindedly as he worked. With how worked up he was, it didn’t take him long to reach the point where his hips stuttered with each thrust.

“P-Please,” he managed, voice cracking, and he heard Tony mutter a curse under his breath. If anything, that made him work even harder. “Oh, god, I… Daddy,  _ please.” _

He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, but he was rapidly reaching the high of his orgasm. When Tony carded his hand through his hair and fisted his curls in his hand, enough for it to evoke a light sting, Peter fell apart. 

“Ohmygod, Daddy, please, I want to, please let me come, pleaseplease _ please—” _

“You’re so fucking filthy, baby,” Tony said, and it was full of fondness. It went straight to Peter’s dick and he shuddered. 

Tony was right. He  _ was  _ filthy. Here he was, in Tony’s office at the firm with its glass doors and glass windows, the security footage recording them, Tony’s hand still pulling his head back with its grip on his curls, his body covered with a sheen of sweat and grinding against Tony’s pant leg after  _ thanking  _ him for being allowed to, like he was just some… some… oh,  _ god.  _

He hadn’t ever been so humiliated in his entire life, and he was loving every second of it.

“You wanna come?”

Peter nodded, squeezing his eyes shut  _ hard. _

“Okay, baby, you’ve been good for me. You can come. Go on.”

Peter came apart at those words, practically drooling all over Tony’s knee as he twisted in both agony and relief as he came in quick spurts of white, all over the floor and Tony’s shoe and… 

It took him a few moments to blink himself back into this dimension, but he managed. He looked up at Tony, almost adoringly, then gasped and looked back down. “Oh, fuck!” Peter clapped a sweaty hand to his red face, pointing at the streaks of come painted over the man’s expensive shoes. “I’m so sorry, I can—”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. Puppy just couldn’t control himself, could he?” Tony laughed. “You wanna clean that up for me?” 

Fuck, was  _ that  _ what he’d meant to do this whole time? 

“I… yes. Yes, Daddy.” Peter practically threw himself forwards, mind already shrouded with the telltale fog of subspace. Leaning over, he bathed his tongue over Tony’s otherwise clean shoe, eyes half-closed, basking under Tony’s watchful gaze. The taste of leather with the sharp tang of his own come filled his mouth, but he didn’t care. The only thing going through his mind was  _ goodsubgoodsubgoodsubgoo— _

“Good boy.” 

A hand pulled him up and Peter looked up through half-lidded eyes at Tony. Then, his gaze immediately darted to Tony’s hand, which was on his dick, and fuck, he was jacking himself off. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight, just stared, licking his lips almost hungrily. 

Tony chuckled, effectively bringing his attention back up to his face. “Haven’t had enough?” he teased, sounding as composed as ever, but the slight flush that was drawing upon his face told Peter just how turned on he was. 

“Please lemme suck you off,” Peter practically whined, his words slurring over each other like he was drunk. “I want—I want—”

“Oh, but it’s not about what you want, is it?” Tony’s eyes were dark as he stared down at Peter. “Maybe what  _ I  _ want is for you to kneel there like the pretty boy you are, stick your tongue out, and wait for me to come all over your face so that when we walk out of here, everyone knows that you’re mine.”

Fuck. 

Peter stared at him, dazed, then slowly put his weight back on his ankles and stuck his tongue out, swallowing already. 

Tony’s eyes followed the convulse of his throat and his hand sped up. “But fuck, baby. I bet your mouth feels so good. You gave me a pretty show earlier using my fingers, you know that? All wet and sloppy and  _ needy. _ Isn’t that right?”

Peter gave a helpless whine, low in his throat. He didn’t take his eyes off of Tony’s movements. 

It didn’t take Tony long either; Peter guessed that watching him grind on his leg had been more than enough for him to get off. 

He could tell the exact moment before Tony was about to come just by the way he gasped, “Fuck,” under his breath and gazed at Peter with heavy, lidded eyes. He licked his lips, then rasped, “You ready?”

Peter barely had time to nod before Tony’s come hit his face. Some of it got on his tongue successfully, the flavour bursting sharply, but most of it on his face, and he could’ve sworn that he felt a bit in his hair. He shuddered at the thought, utterly and completely knocked into subspace. 

Everything went fuzzy and warm for a bit. 

He heard Tony trying to talk to him, then a bit of chuckling, before a warm, wet cloth—where had that even come from?—gently wiped at his face. He made a small noise of protest, trying to pull away, but the hand around the back of his neck stopped him from succeeding. “Supposed… to be marked,” he tried to complain.

“Shhhh. Everyone knows you’re mine anyways. Now hush.”

Peter obeyed immediately. He could do that. He closed his eyes completely and let Tony do his thing, and when he reopened them, he found that they were on the couch. Except… the couch was moving. 

He blinked and tried to sit up, but Tony stopped him. “We’re going home, baby. Just put your head in my lap.”

Peter wordlessly obeyed, shifting to get comfortable. He watched Tony type away for a few minutes until the man pocketed his phone. 

Tony brushed a hand over his forehead, pushing his fringe back. “Nat’s finished wiping the footage.”

Peter blinked. “She… works fast.”

Tony shrugged, like it wasn’t anything impressive or out of blue, and Peter found himself wondering just what exactly had happened in the past for Natasha to be so experienced and ready. 

He looked up at Tony, getting a little motion sick from staring up at the ceiling directly in the car. The man was watching him attentively, like he was looking for signs that would tell him something, but Peter didn’t know what.

He struggled to sit up, then mouthed tenderly at Tony’s neck, unable to help himself. “You smell good.”

Tony chuckled and pressed him back down with a hand on his chest. “Thank you, baby. So do you. How does a nice warm bath sound when we get home?”

“Together?”

“Mhm.”

“Sounds perfect.” Peter gave a content sigh and snuggled closer.

The sound of traffic, even so late in the mind, was muffled, but it still filled the silence in a comfortable way that pleasantly scratched an itch in his brain. His mind wandered as he relaxed, and suddenly, he found his hand trailing up to his neck, brushing against his skin, feeling how  _ empty  _ it was. 

How good would it feel with a collar there?

He opened his eyes and met Tony’s unwavering gaze, but neither of them said anything. Peter was okay with that. He didn’t want to rush anything. Especially not with Tony, who was gradually becoming the most important thing in his entire life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please let me knoww what you thought and feel free to visit me on [my tumblr!](https://snowstark.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to get myself off now, and you’re going to watch me. And you know what else you’re going to do?”
> 
> Peter shook his head.
> 
> “You’re going to sit there like a good boy, hands behind your back, and not get yourself off. You’re not coming at all today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever just crank out a whole chapter in one night? That's what I did with this one. See? I'm making up for the long wait last time!! :p
> 
> Huge shoutout to [winterironspiderling](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com) for being amazing and the speedy beta skills :')

Peter woke up to the feeling of hot sunlight on his face. He blinked drowsily, squinting at the time—shit, was it really only six?—then froze. It only took him a few seconds to realize that he was next to Tony, in Tony’s bed. Oh. 

The man was… naked. So was he. He vaguely remembered stripping off his clothes before passing out. The events of last night flashed into his mind and he winced. Fuck, he’d really put himself out there, in public, where they could’ve easily gotten caught… 

But they hadn’t.

Natasha had wiped the footage, and it had been so late in the night that there was no way anyone had even been there to see them. He shuddered at the thought; he could already hear Flash jeering at him.

With a huff, he pushed away any and all thoughts of work, and focused on the _naked_ Dom next to him. He eyed his cock appreciatively (shamelessly), and like the absolute slut he was, found his mouth watering. Jesus, what was he, a dog in Pavlov’s experiment? He had to bite back the laugh at the prospect, because here he was, imagining himself being trained to drool for cock on cue. _Ding! Time for dick._

Ridiculous. 

He shook his head, then let his gaze drift up to Tony’s face. The man seemed peaceful—more than he ever was at work, anyway. He wondered if Tony ever rested. Probably not. Then he wondered if _he_ could convince Tony to rest and take care of himself. Probably. It would have to be subtle, though. The man would castrate him if he found out what he was really up to. 

Peter quietly sat up, intending to wash up in the bathroom, and then stilled. It wasn’t often that he was awake before Tony. This was probably the first and last time, which meant… well, he had to take advantage of the situation, didn’t he?

Tony wouldn’t mind. Peter was _his._ Wasn’t this what subs did all the time, anyway? Please their Dom, make them feel good, then thank them for being allowed to do that? 

Peter shifted his weight back, propping himself so that he was resting on his elbows, and dipped his head closer to Tony’s dick. He let his breath tickle the Dom’s cock for a few moments, then licked a hot, wet stripe from his balls to the head. 

Tony shifted, and Peter froze, staring at him. When nothing else happened, he took a deep breath and went in for another one, mouthing at the head of his cock, already feeling the Dom’s cock grow harder. Feeling a flash of satisfaction, he continued, only pausing to draw up a pool of saliva in his mouth so he’d be wetter for Tony. 

He closed his eyes, thoughts drifting to last night yet again. 

God, he’d… he’d _humped_ Tony’s leg like a bitch in heat. Had _begged_ him to. Then came all over his shoe, and _licked his mess up._ His cheeks burned with heat in humiliation, but his hardening cock betrayed just how much he’d enjoyed it all. 

He’d taken Tony into his mouth properly now, was sucking about three-quarters down before pulling back up, not wanting to be gagging on it. Yet. 

He wondered if Tony liked cockwarming. 

Peter would be a good cockwarmer for him. He’d make his mouth all wet and sloppy, so that Tony could use him however he wanted to. He’d sit there—no, _kneel_ there, maybe under his desk—his _office_ desk, fuck. Tony would have to switch his current one for another, because it was transparent which meant people would see Peter whoring himself out, and that couldn’t happen, so why was Peter enjoying that scenario so much? The others would stare, and they’d whisper to themselves, and Flash would definitely catch word of this and say some dumb shit like, _see, he really is Daddy’s whore,_ and oh, _fuck,_ he _was_ a whore for Tony, because Tony could snap his fingers and tell him to jump and Peter’s only response would be, “How high?”

A groan escaped Peter’s throat without his permission and he pulled off, hanging his head, panting. He let his hand drift down to his own hard cock, biting his lip, and he was just about to wrap a hand around it when—

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Tony’s voice was gravelly, still rough from sleep. He placed his hand on Peter’s before moving his hand away. 

Peter’s breath hitched and he looked up at Tony. “G’morning.”

Tony chuckled and gave his cock a pointed look. “Definitely a good morning for me.”

Peter flushed cherry-red, but he hid the slight embarrassment that bubbled up in his gut by climbing on top of Tony, straddling him just above his cock, and leaned forward to mouth at his neck. 

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed him away, seeming more awake now. “No sexy time until we get rid of our morning breath. Go and make yourself look presentable.”

Peter huffed and reluctantly went to the bathroom in the corridor, leaving the one in the master bedroom for Tony. He washed up faster than he’d ever done before, half-assing it in hopes that he could be in the bed before Tony, but when he made his way back to the bedroom, Tony had finished before him. Shocker.

The Dom looked up when he entered, and Peter stopped at the sight before him. 

Tony had a hand wrapped around his cock, still glistening with Peter’s spit, and he was lazily stroking himself, up and down, a steady rhythm that didn’t break even when Peter entered. “What?” Tony drawled. “Not my fault you got me all worked up.”

Peter swallowed and shook his head in agreement. He came over, and when Tony didn’t stop him, he crawled back onto the bed. His gaze never left Tony’s hand, and he waited for Tony to say something, to order him to suck him off properly now, to… 

Peter bit his lip. “I could, um.” He gestured vaguely at Tony.

There was a flash of amusement in Tony’s eyes, and he took his hand off of his dick. It was a deep shade of red now, dribbling milky beads of pre-come from the slit. Peter’s mouth watered even more.

“What, you want to finish me off?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

Peter nodded eagerly and immediately began to shift forwards to get comfortable.

“Ah-ah! No, I didn’t say you could do that.” Tony pressed a hand to his bare chest, the tips of his fingers digging into Peter’s skin. “Look at you; you’re a mess. Take a look at yourself in the mirror, then look me in the eye and tell me that this is what presentable looks like.”

Peter didn’t have to. He dropped his gaze, and Tony gave him an unimpressed look. “You think it’s okay to be half-assing my orders?”

“No, Sir.” Peter eyed Tony’s dick longingly, but knew better than to voice a complaint. 

Tony rolled his eyes, but the way he reached out and gently carded a hand through Peter’s hair took the sting out of his words. “That wasn’t what you were calling me last night.”

Peter flushed.

Tony laughed, then let his hand fall back to his cock, immediately catching Peter’s attention once again. “I’m going to get myself off now, and you’re going to watch me. And you know what else you’re going to do?”

Peter shook his head.

“You’re going to sit there like a good boy, hands behind your back, and not get yourself off. You’re not coming at all today.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open in an unspoken protest, but Tony cut him a look so sharp that it stopped him in his tracks. “What, you think you deserve it now? I mean, you tried to get yourself off this morning. Didn’t even ask for permission.”

“I thought I could touch without asking,” Peter said weakly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you certainly can. But the moment you use _me_ to try and get yourself off? Baby, only good boys ask if they can touch themselves to the sight of their Dom.”

Peter hunched his shoulders. “‘m sorry, Daddy,” he said softly, already beginning to feel the light tinge of subspace that pushed at his vision. 

Tony reached out and cupped his face. “Hey, pretty, stay here with me right now, okay?”

Peter nodded. He knew they had work in a few hours, and he knew Tony could technically excuse him from being late if they got a bit caught up in, well, personal matters. He got where Tony was coming from, though; subspace could be a tricky matter—sometimes, it could be for a few minutes, and other times, hours. It was a gamble. If he let himself float in it right now, so early in their play, he wasn’t sure how fast he’d be able to come out of it. 

Shit, they were mixing up their personal with their professional again, weren’t they?

 _Shut up,_ Peter told himself. That didn’t matter. What _did_ matter was the raging hard-on he had, and the fact that he was going to have blue balls for the rest of the day.

Tony waited for a few moments, like he was expecting something, and Peter stared at him blankly for a few moments before it clicked—Tony was waiting for a sign that he could continue. Peter felt himself melt a little bit on the inside, because fuck, this man could be an _asshole_ when he wanted to be, but moments like this just showed how much of a good person he really was. 

“Thank you for teaching me a lesson, Daddy,” Peter said softly, and in response, something in Tony’s gaze changed.

“You’re welcome, darling,” the man replied sweetly, then began to stroke himself in earnest. He groaned, putting his other hand behind his head, leaning back on the headboard. 

Peter quickly shifted into position, moving his hands behind his back and lacing his fingers so he wouldn’t be tempted to move them. He watched Tony, unable to look away from the sight before him. 

There were beads of sweat that were beginning to dot Tony’s hairline, and his breath picked up its speed as Tony worked his hand over his cock. He licked his lips, and Peter saw his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. 

Peter startled when the Dom held out the hand he’d been using to stroke himself under his chin. “Spit,” he ordered impatiently, and it went straight to Peter’s dick. 

He ducked his head, obeying, wanting to show how good he could be, how good he _wanted_ to be. 

Tony pulled his hand back and resumed his efforts, cock shining with Peter’s spit now. 

Peter’s cock twitched and he swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. He was _not_ about to blow his load at just the sight of Tony. That would be beyond humiliating. Through his eyelashes, he could see Tony picking up his pace, wrist snapping up with a twist.

“God, honey, the things you do to me,” Tony panted, making Peter’s eyes snap back completely open. “I mean, look at me. ‘s only been a few minutes and I’m already so close. It’s the sight of you that does it.” He reached out, brushing a hand down from Peter’s chest and lingering right above his cock. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Peter shivered. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

“You’re such a good boy,” Tony murmured, before his eyes dropped back down to his cock. “You gonna be good for me today?”

“Yes.” Peter nodded hard enough to give himself whiplash. “I’ll be the best, Daddy, I swear. I promise.”

“I dunno, honey, you don’t sound like you mean it—”

“I do!” Peter interrupted with a gasp. “Please. Pleaseplease _please._ I can show you, if you let me, I can—”

“Mmm.” Tony eyed him appreciatively. “You sound so pretty when you beg, you know that? Fuck.” He let his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. “When I come, I—fuck—I want you to clean it up. You hear me?”

“Yessir.” Peter nodded again, even though Tony wasn’t looking at him.

“Good boy.” Tony looked at him then, eyes not drifting away for a single second.

For a few moments, only the wet, slick sound of Tony’s hand working at his dick filled up the room. Then, Tony’s thighs tensed and he shuddered. “Fuck, kid—” And he came, in hot, quick spurts of white, all over his hand and dripping down his cock. 

Peter swallowed, mouth going dry at the sight. It took Tony a few moments to ride through the wave of his high, but when he finished, he held out a hand to Peter’s mouth expectantly. 

Without wasting a single moment, Peter began to lave his tongue over Tony’s hand, lapping up Tony’s come. He ducked his head when it was clean, giving Tony a questioning look, and when the Dom nodded, he gently licked a stripe up Tony’s cock, cleaning him up again. 

Tony’s cock twitched against his lips, and he found himself wanting to take him back into his mouth. Somehow, he managed to suppress the urge and simply sat back up. 

Tony reached out tenderly, then drew him into his arms, making Peter inhale sharply. The gentle hum of subspace began to near him again, nudging him towards the edge that would make him _fly,_ not fall. Tony placed a hand on the back of his neck, and murmured, “You were so good for me, sweetheart. The best I’ve ever seen. You’re so perfect, you know that?”

Peter shivered and pressed into the touch. “You’re… you’re gonna have to wash up again,” he said, and was surprised to find how much his words were slurred. 

Tony gently maneuvered him so he was sitting in his lap, and cradled him tenderly. “I know. That’s okay. It was so worth it. I got to see how much of a good boy you are.”

Peter preened at the words.

“You cold, baby? Want me to get you some water, or fruit?” Tony gently rubbed his stomach, making him bite back a laugh. It tickled. “We didn’t even have breakfast.”

“‘s okay. ‘m okay.” Peter rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, tracing patterns across his chest. He frowned when he noticed a light, pale scar across the expanse of the left side of his chest, and traced it, but stopped when he felt the Dom flinch. He froze, suddenly unsure of what to do. Tony had… had never reacted that way, to _anything._ There was a moment of silence between them, and then Peter broke it by asking softly, “What happened?”

Tony shifted his arm out from behind his back and for a split second, Peter thought he was going to push his hand away, but instead, he gently took Peter’s hand in his own and pressed a light kiss to each one of his knuckles. “Heart surgery,” he said slowly. “In Afghanistan. Got bombed during a meeting; it was an emergency operation with limited resources. Hence the scarring.”

Peter stared at him, mind already whirring away, medical articles flashing before his eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he breathed without meaning to, and winced when Tony flinched again. He pressed closer, trying to comfort him without being too obvious about it, and murmured against his chest, “You’re perfect.”

Tony laughed, and it was a nice, warm rumble against Peter’s cheek. “I’m the one supposed to be doing aftercare, you know.”

Peter ignored him, and just leaned forward and tentatively pressed a kiss on the edge of the scar. He felt Tony’s breath hitch a bit, but when there was no protest, he did it again, and again, and again, all the way until he’d reached the other end of it. He looked up at Tony and found him staring down at him, both with a look of shock and utter adoration, and smiled shyly. “Doms need aftercare too.”

Tony tilted his head, looking at him like he was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out, then seemed to blink away whatever he was thinking. He just shifted so that Peter was closer, and wrapped his arms around him, letting his chin rest on the top of Peter’s head. 

Peter drifted in and out of a warm, fuzzy subspace for a while. He wasn’t in it particularly deep, but he was comfortable to stay this way for _forever,_ if Tony let him. 

After what felt like hours had passed, Tony glanced at the clock, then groaned. “We better get ready soon. You have an appointment at eight thirty, and then we have to go straight to work.” 

Peter frowned. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I made you one at the tailors. New suits, remember?”

Peter sighed. “Right.” He’d forgotten about that. 

Tony snorted. “Don’t look so upset. It’ll be good for you, I promise. Besides, you can show me how grateful you are to me later.” He winked. 

And that was how at eight o’clock in the morning, Tony hauled a less than eager Peter out of the household and into their car. “Take us to Hank’s, Happy.”

“What kind of a name is Hank?” Peter snorted, just out of pure grumpiness, and Tony ignored him.

When they pulled up in front of a small tailor’s shop, Tony tugged Peter out and guided him towards the door with a possessive hand on the small of his back. 

Only then did it hit Peter that they were out in public now, not in the safety of their penthouse. He stopped as they reached the threshold and gave Tony a slightly panicked look. “Wait, no, you can’t be touching me like this in public—”

Tony gave him a look of both concern and amusement. “Baby, I promise you, Hank’s very discreet. He’s seen a lot of things that he shouldn’t have seen, and he and I have known each other for years. He won’t say a thing.” When Peter just stared at him with wide eyes, he added, “But… if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll steer clear of that territory.” 

Peter bit his lip, mulling it over. He wasn’t… it wasn’t that he was _uncomfortable,_ he just wasn’t used to being so free and open about his relationship with Tony. He’d conditioned himself to put on a mask in public, and taking it off was suddenly proving to be difficult. But he wanted it. A small part of him _wanted_ people to know that he was Tony’s. And another part of him _needed_ it. So, he shook his head. “No, ‘s okay. I’m good. Sorry. Just panicked in the moment.”

“Don’t apologize.” Tony held the door open. “I should’ve talked to you about it first. Guess you blew my mind this morning, darling.” 

Peter blushed as he entered, and of course, right as Tony said those words, the sound of an older, sharper voice greeted them. 

“Ah, Tony! You made it on time, I see. Didn’t get too caught up in your work?”

Tony eyed Peter appreciatively for a few more moments, then smiled. “Just a bit, Hank, but it wasn’t too much of a problem. Got it sorted out pretty quickly.” He grinned widely. 

Peter grew even redder, absolutely mortified. After shooting Tony a glare, he turned and was met with the sight of a man, slightly smallish in frame, wearing glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose, with greying hair and a stern set to his mouth. 

“What’re we getting you today, Tony?” Hank asked, bustling about as if Peter didn’t even exist. “We just got a new set of pinstripe designs yesterday; I’ve been _dying_ to try them on you—”

“Unfortunately, Hank, today isn’t about me,” Tony interrupted politely, clearly amused by Hank’s visible disappointment. “I’ve brought in my associate for some upgrades in attire.”

Hank only then seemed to notice Peter standing there awkwardly. He eyed the sub for a few moments, then let his gaze drift back to Tony. “Your associate. I… see.” 

For a moment, Peter was terrified that the man would… do _something,_ call him out, whatever, but all he did was give Peter a once-over and grimace. “Yes, he definitely needs an upgrade.” 

Peter jumped when the man lifted his chin with a finger, shooting Tony an uncertain look. 

Tony smiled back at him, lounging in a chair, looking completely at ease.

 _Dick,_ Peter thought. Tony was probably enjoying this little power trip of his, showing off his _belongings—_ which included Peter—and playing dress up to get him exactly how he wanted. Oh, Tony was _definitely_ enjoying this. 

And so was Peter. Which really wasn’t the best thing right now, because he was extra sensitive considering he hadn’t been allowed to get off this morning. _I’m going to chop off my dick if I get hard in front of this lunatic._ He let Hank circle him like a mad dog frothing at the mouth. 

“Is this really the best you could do?” Hank gestured to the grey suit Peter had tossed on, shooting Tony a filthy look. “Have I taught you nothing?” 

“You’ve taught me plenty,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes. “You should be thanking me that I didn’t put pinstripes on him.” 

Hank looked horrified. “That would’ve been a _tragedy._ Scott! Hope! Bring out the ones from… let’s start off with section D, 45!” 

Peter watched as a younger man and woman lugged out what had to be twenty suits, and shot Tony an aghast look when they pulled out three polypropylene boxes of ties. 

Tony just grinned. 

Asshole. 

“We’ll start off with this.” Hank snapped his fingers and pointed at an olive-green suit as Scott bustled around, shutting the windows and closing the curtains. “It’ll look good with his fragile complexion.” 

“Hey!” Peter spluttered, offended.

Tony let out a bark of laughter, receiving yet another dirty look from Peter. 

Before he could say something that would probably result in him getting his ass beat by Tony later in the day, Hank snapped his fingers again, catching his attention, and tugged at his suit jacket. “Off, off, get everything off,” he said impatiently. “We don’t have all day.”

Peter stared at him, then looked at Tony. _Help._

Tony stared back, though Peter didn’t miss the slight concern that flitted briefly across his face. “You heard the man,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s either that or a private show for me.” He raised an eyebrow—a question, one that only Peter would understand. 

Peter hesitated, then shrugged off his jacket. At least the curtains were blocking the windows now. 

He stripped himself of his clothing until he was standing in his boxers self-consciously, and was more than eager to get the suit on himself. 

The next hour consisted of him turning on the spot, tucking his hands behind his back, letting Hank fret over the clothes, switching a pink shirt for another one that looked exactly the same to him yet apparently it wasn’t, letting Tony and Hank discuss him like he was there for their viewing pleasure.

Peter actually found himself relaxing a bit, letting himself be putty in Hank’s hands. It was nice, being told what to do. It would’ve been even better if it was Tony, though. 

What really got to him was the fact that every time Hank found something he seemed to particularly like on Peter (and it was obvious because when he didn’t, he screeched, “Off! Off off off!” until Hope or Scott came rushing in to yank it off of Peter), he turned to Tony and waited for his approval. Like he knew Peter was his. And he did know, just like how every single person in that room knew. 

Soon after that thought popped into his mind, Peter found himself floating in a happy buzz again, a light, shallow one, but enough to make him pliable and eager to obey. 

He only came out of it when the car started, and whoa, wait, when had they left the shop? He blinked, and looked at Tony, who was watching him with what almost seemed to be a fond expression on his face. Weird. 

He looked down at himself and blinked, noticing the change in his attire. He was wearing a grey-blue suit now, with a white shirt and a dark maroon tie. “When did I change?”

“When I told you to,” Tony replied simply, and Peter preened at the words. The man gestured for him to scooch closer, and he immediately obeyed, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. Despite being denied an orgasm, today was off to a great start, he mused drowsily. 

Definitely a big contrast against the chaotic atmosphere that the office greeted him with when they arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, tell me what you thought in the comments! 
> 
> Feel free to visit my [tumblr!](https://snowstark.tumblr.com)


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